


Neon Lights

by celerydragon, memefucker69



Category: EXO (Band), Red Velvet (K-pop Band), Super Junior, f(x)
Genre: Futuristic, Gang AU, M/M, MAMA AU, Multi, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-18
Updated: 2017-03-09
Packaged: 2018-03-24 15:20:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 57,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3773575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celerydragon/pseuds/celerydragon, https://archiveofourown.org/users/memefucker69/pseuds/memefucker69
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>El Dorado and Playboy have always been at odds with each other. That was just the natural order of things; but the return of Kim Jongin, a known murderer, turns everything upside down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 001

**Author's Note:**

> collab between memefucker69 and thatweirdo (aff)
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The tire screeches beneath him as he turns a corner, skidding slightly, his knee almost but not quite touching the ground, but he manages to keep control of his bike. The pulsing forcefield in place of a front tire makes it easy to get back on track. He needs to look around and see how close they are, but he can’t risk taking his eyes off the road in front of him. His mask makes it easier to see what’s in front of him and protects him from the heavy rain, but there’s people around and that makes it all the harder as he weaves in and out of them.

He smirks: he’s in first, as far as he knows, all he has to do now is stay here, and fight off anyone else who thinks they can take this win away from him.

A gut-wrenching crash resounds behind him, followed by the sound of an explosion. Kyungsoo feels alive, adrenaline coursing through his veins.

The shouting and screaming behind him doesn’t slow him down, never has, never will. An engine roars behind him, gradually getting louder until it’s all he can hear, even above the background noise of the public, who are screaming and diving aside as he speeds by. He looks back, just for half a second, so he can get a good gauge on where they are, and flicks his arm out to the side, pushes his hand up, palm facing the sky. The earth rumbles, and a wall of rock erupts from beneath the mirror-like tarmac, and the sound of a man crying out is satisfying.

It’s not far now, he thinks, revving and going even faster, his bike’s forcefield generator humming with the strain as he pushes it as hard as he can. Droplets of water traverse in rivulets over his mask, travelling sideways with the force of the air that rushes past him and the brightly lit signs on each shop window would distract him if he wasn’t used to them by now.

Sirens. He can hear sirens. They caught onto the situation quicker than usual, but it’s ok. It just adds a new element to the game. Everything about this is illegal anyway; why not make it more dangerous?

Sharply turning, he back tracks, wanting to cause a bit of trouble; he’s still got time, the others are a long way back. There’s no fun in playing safe anyway.

It only takes a few moments to find them, about twenty in a pack all huddled together, lightning crackling and store fronts disintegrating in blasts gone awry. It’s a little difficult to pick out who is who from this distance, but Kyungsoo quickly locks on to a racer from the opposite side and raises a series of rocky spikes with a few flicks of his fingers. The woman tries her best to evade them, but hits one and is sent flying off her bike and onto the ground, hopefully sustaining an injury that might put her out of the next race. Kyungsoo can do nothing but hope.

The sirens are louder now, which means they’re getting closer, and Kyungsoo can’t tell which direction they’re coming from, so they might cut them off. It’s a dilemma: finish the race and possibly get arrested, or get back to the club and relative safety?

No way is he going back without having won this thing; the police don’t know how to drive anyway. He knows that once they’re spotted, both gangs will easily take out the police on their own. Kyungsoo doesn’t like to lose.

He speeds through with experienced and precise maneuvers, taking out other riders who are more skilled in racing rather than magic. Kyungsoo’s power is definitely one to be reckoned with while on the road. After all, how can you drive when there’s no road to drive on?

As more and more racers begin to appear and threaten to pass him, he decides it’s best to stop playing around and get back to actually racing rather than causing havoc for everyone else. Plus, the police sirens are getting even closer now, the shrill screeching making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, and Kyungsoo hates having to deal with them and other racers all at once.

He clicks his tongue in annoyance as a certain rider manages to zoom past him, his unusually shaped bike difficult to effectively drive off course. The front of the bike curves up over the rider’s head and back down at the back, creating a perfect circle with the rider inside, and lights punctuating along the edge whizz around it. Kyungsoo furrows his brows at the smug smirk the rider—who he recognizes as Tao from El Dorado—throws at him. With a powerful twisting movement of his hand, he tears up the pavement a few meters back to deter those behind them and his back tire screeches as he spins back on the track, chasing after the blond on the circular bike.

Kyungsoo knows those bikes are especially hard to control, just showing how much skill the young gang member has—but it isn't near as much skill as Kyungsoo, and Kyungsoo has years more experience in these races than that newcomer. Even if he was trained by the great leader of Transformer, Kris, he stands no chance against Kyungsoo, who has been riding a bike like this since he was seven.

When he turns another corner, the leader of Playboy spots his naive opponent just ahead of him. His lips curve up into a malicious smile, and Kyungsoo kicks up his acceleration, aiming to get beside Tao and incapacitate him. The pouring rain pelts against his leather jacket and soaks the sleek black outer shell of his bike as he finally catches up to El Dorado member.

Tao swerves from side-to-side, already figuring what Kyungsoo is aiming to accomplish and countering his efforts by trying to throw him off his tail and block him.

Kyungsoo curses but doesn't give in, persistently searching for an opening that Tao isn't covering. Finally, as they turn onto another rain-slicked street, the older man manages to pass Tao—only for a split-second though as the blond instantly is at his side, leaving them neck-and-neck.

"Get off of my tail, asshole!" Kyungsoo growls out, raising a hand in the air and pushing it forward, causing a strip of asphalt in front of Tao to crumble, but he easily evades it.

He can't do major attacks with the probability that, with only one hand steering, Tao can use that to his advantage and take the lead at any time.

He needs backup.

Another explosion sounds from behind them, the blast rumbling the ground and lighting up the dull night sky, and Kyungsoo hears a wild howl of glee. He rolls his eyes as the guttural grumble of a motor approaches them, followed by a smoother, newer sounding bike behind it. Tao turns his head to investigate, but Kyungsoo already knows exactly who it is.

"Boss!" a deep voice booms and a fiery-haired man with manic eyes pulls up on the other side of Tao, trapping him between them, embers trailing behind the wheels on his low-riding bike and licking at the asphalt.

"Want us to take him out?" Chanyeol shouts, but he doesn’t need to to be heard over everything, his voice is loud enough as it is.

"Wow, Kyungsoo needs  _our_  help?" Baekhyun chimes in, pulling up to ride just behind Tao, who is now surrounded on three sides.

"He can control time if he focuses hard enough," Kyungsoo steely informs them, "be careful."

"Stop fucking talking like I'm not here!" Tao spits.

“He seems to be getting angry!” Chanyeol mocks, and he and Baekhyun laugh boisterously. They share a look that Kyungsoo recognizes, he’s seen it far too many times not to, and he knows by now it means he should probably get as far away as he possibly can, before he gets blown to smithereens. Pushing his bike to the limits, he drops down two gears and revs before hurtling forward and away from his teammates. Hopefully he gets far enough before they start blowing shit up. They’re reckless, and so powerful together that they could obliterate half the city, given the chance.

One more corner and he can see today’s finish line in the distance. He fixes his sight on it and crouches low over the body of his bike, minimizing air resistance so he can go even faster, blocking out the ground shaking eruptions of fire and light behind him.

 _Just a little more_. Streetlights are more like strobe lights at this speed, flashing in his peripheral vision. From the corner of his eye he thinks he sees something he thought he’d never see again, someone who he thought had vanished. The figure is at a standstill, draped in the darkness but outlined by the light. But their silhouette vanishes just as quickly as it appeared, so Kyungsoo quickly forces the memories out of his mind and focuses on winning this damn race. It’s probably just his imagination or the lights playing tricks on him.

There’s a small crowd waiting for him as he crosses the makeshift line, a smeary line of paint that’s half dissolved because of the water, but he doesn’t slow down until he’s over it. Whoops of applause permeate the air, and he smiles. The only times he smiles for real these days is when he wins a race, and he lets the wonderful glow of triumph flow over him, basking in the adoration of his gang and the shouts of abuse from El Dorado.

He swerves to a standstill, one foot on the ground for balance, watching as the others cross the line. Some join him, and others park next to the rival gang’s leader, Joonmyeon, who is sending filthy looks in Kyungsoo’s direction. It’s technically against the unwritten, unspoken rules of the game, but he wouldn’t put it past Joonmyeon to try to use his magic to drown him outside of a race.

“Joonmyeon.” He greets, pulling off his mask, shaking his hair and striding over to where he and his gang have congregated together. “As always, a wonderful day to wipe the floor with your ass,” he winks at him, poised to return fire if Joonmyeon takes offence.

“ _Fuck_. Off,” Joonmyeon brushes his saturated fringe out of his face, expression like thunder. Too bad his power is water; otherwise it would have suited him better. It feels good as always to rub it in the loser’s face. You could say Kyungsoo wasn’t a good winner - and he’s a terrible loser - humility just isn’t a skill in his repertoire.

“Yeah, sure, I’ll just fuck off over there—to where the rest of the winners are.”

“Fucking hell, Kyungsoo,  _piss off_  before I  _drown_  you in dry air!” he lunges forward to attack him, non-magically apparently, and although Kyungsoo is ready to beat his ass, he needn’t have bothered. The one with the wispy, spidery scars holds him back, pinning his arms to his sides from behind.

“Boss, it’s not worth it. Not here, in public.” Kyungsoo recalls his name being  _Jong_ -something.

“Fuck.” He spits. Kyungsoo nods sagely. Everything is right in the world. He’s the winner, as usual, and Joonmyeon is the loser. He’s only lost to Joonmyeon’s gang three times, ever. And one of those races he wasn’t even in.

Turning on his heel, he heads back to where the rest of his members await, and into the open arms of Minseok for a bear hug that crushes his ribcage. Baekhyun and Chanyeol are excited too; Chanyeol has his best buddy in a friendly headlock, and Baekhyun is sprouting luminous spores that float around them like fireflies, casting a faint white glow on everyone in the dark.

But they don’t have long to celebrate, as the wailing of police sirens suddenly echoes off the buildings surrounding them, and everyone scarpers, heading back to their home or base. Kyungsoo and his gang grin widely as they hear the shouts of the police over the roar of their engines.

 

Playboy, Kyungsoo’s gang, is based in a dance club.

When he and the racers get there, music is pounding and people are dancing drunkenly, and the pungent aroma of alcohol and other things is almost overwhelming, but as soon as they walk through the doors the whole place erupts with cheering and whistling. Reveling in the appreciation of his many talents, Kyungsoo walks straight up to Victoria who is manning the bar, as always, and orders a drink. She looks at him blankly, her eyes heavily lined with black, but Kyungsoo can see that she is secretly pleased, behind her stern facade.

“I’ll fix you up something good,” she promises, a sultry gleam in her eyes. That means it’s going to be something special, one of her own creations.

While he waits, he pulls out a pack of old fashioned cigarettes and a zippo lighter from his pocket, the box of cigarettes crumpled and nearly empty. Placing the cancer stick between his lips, Kyungsoo flicks open the chrome lighter and lights the cigarette, emitting a small glow for a fraction of a second. Inhaling deeply, he’s filled with relief as the smoke fills his lungs, then forms in swirling clouds that spread across the ceiling in grey curls as he breathes out. He isn’t afraid to admit that he is somewhat of a chain smoker. At least he isn’t smoking those gross, old cigars like his father did.

It’s when he rubs the cigarette into the ashtray that Yixing appears and sits down beside him, clapping him on the back.

“Congrats,” he says, leaning on the counter, “I had no doubts that you would crush them, but congrats anyway,”

“Thanks, Yixing,” he laughs, noting the bandages on his friend’s hand. He must have cut himself on something again. While being the most competent healer available, Yixing also has the tendency to be a bit of an airhead, which leads to him making silly mistakes like this.

The glass Victoria sets down in front of him is layered up in different colors, and glows ominously under the black light. He squints at it.

“Are you sure this is safe for human consumption?”

“Just try it,” she sighs, exasperated. “You’ll like it.”

“Ok,” Kyungsoo tentatively raises the glass to his lips, letting the glowing liquid touch his lips, then hesitates, licking it off instead. It tastes sweet but sour at the same time, reminding him of the candy he used to steal as a child. Humming, he sips more.

“Told you,” Victoria folds her arms and leans back, corner of her lips quirking up in satisfaction.

“Mm, what’s in this?”

“Oh, nothing you have to worry about,” she says before serving someone else, her long hair swishing with the movement, and her earrings glinting. He should probably be suspicious, but it can’t be much worse than anything else he’s taken.

He looks around the room, surveying the people dancing and grinding. This is his element, he thinks, noting that every other person in here is a member of the gang, even though this club is technically open to the general public. Minseok is attracting attention as always, Yonian girls flocking around him like moths to a flame. He is half-Yonian himself, a biologically muscular race which is 90% female, so whenever a male one turns up, even half human like Minseok is, the women crowd around him.

A blonde beauty surrounded by a bunch of other girls is dancing with her friends, looking carefree. His sister, Yeri. She was technically only his half-sister, his father slept around a lot, but she’s the only family he had left. Precious. Yeri turns mid-dance and catches his eyes, throwing a bright smile that warms his heart. Usually Kyungsoo would get on her for being in the club this late, but she’s nineteen now. He’s trying not to be as overbearingly protective these days.

Kyungsoo finishes the drink sooner than he would have liked, even when distracted by Chanyeol and Baekhyun, who tried to drag him to dance in celebration of their victory. With the glass empty, he finally joins them, feeling the bass pulsing through him, aligning with his heartbeat. He’s never felt so in tune with the music before, and he wonders in passing if that has something to do with the drink he’s just had, but forgets about that almost the moment it comes into his head.

He allows the rhythm to take control of his movements, and simply enjoys himself. It has been a long time since he’s done this and not felt guilty. Not since before his father died. Being the boss of a gang is harder than he expected, even though he’d been trained into it from a young age. Kyungsoo had been stressed about it for the longest time, but he seems to be getting the hang of it lately.

“Yeah, Kyungsoo, get it!” Baekhyun teases, as the leader grinds up against a man he’s never seen before. Baekhyun is dancing with Chanyeol pressed up behind them, their hair radiating light like an obsolete fibre optic light - it’s one of the perks of being a plant based life form - so they have no excuse to be mocking him, Kyungsoo thinks irritably. He rolls his eyes, and finds the beat again, getting lost in it in an instant.

 

Thirsty. That’s the first thing that pulls him out of his trance. He needs to drink something, he’s  _parched_. He’s not sure what time it is, it feels like it’s been a long time and no time at all. Fatigued and dehydrated, he edges around the writhing bodies to get to Victoria, hoping for a glass of water or something that will quench his thirst but someone blocks his path. Even when he makes to sidestep around him, the rude guy steps in front of him.

“Look, what is your prob...lem.” he falters when he sees the man’s face.

“Long time no see,” the flashing lights reflect off of the small grin spreading onto said person’s lips.

“J-Jongin?” He whispers, unable to believe his eyes. So he wasn’t imagining things earlier, he really did see him. He looks different though, his hair is black now. It used to be so blonde that it was white, complementing his skin tone and making him look like a bronze statue. Now he looks sleek and dangerous. It only adds to the growing list of things that send alarm bells ringing in Kyungsoo’s head.

He scowls, “What the fuck are you doing here?” He has to shout over the loud music.

“Nice to see you too,” Jongin snorts.

“Get the fuck out of my club,” he snarls, knowing that if Jongin is here then trouble won’t be far behind. Dealing with the ongoing gang war with El Dorado is hard enough without Jongin dragging his bullshit into it and messing everything he’s worked for these past two years and up.

“Hey, hey, I just wanted to talk to you,” he quickly explains, hands up like he’s afraid Kyungsoo is going to attack him. He has half a mind to.

“Well I don’t give a shit. Get. Out.”

“Just listen,” Jongin pleads, eyebrows pulling together pitifully.

“No,  _you_  listen. You will get the fuck out of here in ten seconds or I will—what are you doi— _no_!” The black haired man reaches out to grab Kyungsoo’s arm, a move he’s familiar with, and he jerks his body away.

“No, don’t you try and pull that move on me. Get.  _Out_ ,” Kyungsoo repeats, venom in his words. But in a move Kyungsoo is too slow to anticipate this time, Jongin grabs his hand, locking his fingers tight around his wrist, and suddenly they’re upstairs in Kyungsoo’s bedroom, bass pounding through the floor beneath him. So he still knows where it is.

Fucking teleportation magic.

“Please, Kyungsoo. Just listen.” Jongin pleads, dark eyes reflecting in the moonlight gleaming through the large windows. Kyungsoo internally debates over opening one of those windows and tossing him out of it. He needs to get him out. What had happened in the past is long over with, and he definitely doesn’t want Jongin clinging to him for help now of all times.

But a tiny part of him actually wants to hear what Jongin has to say.

“Fine. Tell me whatever it the fuck it is you want to tell me then leave.” He grits out, trying not to remember the last time Jongin had been in this room. It wasn’t working that well.

Jongin leans in as if to whisper something to him, and Kyungsoo frowns, hoping this isn’t going where he thought it’s going, but also kind of hoping it  _is_ , even though that would be one of the worst things that could happen right now. Hot breath washes over his cheek, and then lips brush his earlobe.

“I want you.”

Taking a deep breath through his nose, he resists. He really tries, but  _damn_ , Jongin is like a siren call. As the younger man pulls back, Kyungsoo grabs his collar and yanks him back again, crushing their lips together with vengeance. Jongin’s mouth is as hot as he remembered, but he tastes different - like, like - he doesn’t know what.

“Kissing you is still like kissing an ashtray,” Jongin mumbles against his lips. Kyungsoo rolls his eyes, and roughly licks into his mouth, moaning when the taller man pulls their bodies together, groping his ass in the process.

Memories of rainy nights spent in dank, slimy alleyways or in the very room they were currently standing in flood his mind. The scandal, the excitement of sleeping with the enemy had been so strong in his eyes at that time, back when Kim Jongin was blond, when Kim Jongin hadn’t murdered two people and Transformer wasn’t ripped into shreds and haphazardly pasted back together to form El Dorado.

A knock on the door splits them apart, and Kyungsoo barely has time to wipe his mouth before some newer gang members, who obviously don’t know that it’s rude as fuck to interrupt someone when they might be fucking, let alone the  _leader_ , barge in. By the time Kyungsoo turns around Jongin is gone. That’s hardly surprising, he thinks, glowering at the empty spot he occupied just a moment ago.

“What do you fuckheads want?” he grumbles sourly, mood ruined.

“El Dorado challenged you to another race!” The kid has to be what, thirteen years old? When the hell did he let them join? Who told  _them_  to come up and relay the message? He groans, throat burning since he still hasn’t had that drink yet.

“Again? Fucking asshole is a sore loser.” Kyungsoo should have expected this. Joonmyeon is always a fucking pushover when it comes to racing. They have been racing more and more as time goes on. Not that Kyungsoo exactly minds, he just -  _y’know_  - would actually like some time to do actual business and what not. Some of the smaller peripheral gangs are good for keeping up trade with outside the city, and if they don’t co-operate it’s easy to raid them and steal all their shit, but with El Dorado in control of a large part of the city, there are some places he can’t get into.

“They said he’s wagering an entire street,” the other kid, who if possible looks even younger, interjects brightly. He really needs to get on to whoever let these  _children_  join.

“What street?” Kyungsoo asks, trudging over to his small wet bar in the corner. Too impatient and thirsty, he grabs the nearest glass and fills it with water from the sink, downing it in one gulp.

“Exodus!” They exclaim cheerfully together, and Kyungsoo almost does a spit take right then and there.

Exodus is one of the main streets, filled with all sorts of clients and businesses under El Dorado’s ownership. Gain it, and Playboy would rake in money and territory, as well as a whole slew future deals. If he won this race, it would be a victory that would place his gang out on top. They’d be practically invincible, and it would be easy to take down the rest of the competition.

Even if Kyungsoo wouldn’t have agreed simply for the rush, the ecstasy of racing, this is an opportunity he can’t refuse. But surely there’s a catch, Joonmyeon wouldn’t risk wagering his best area just for the sake of another chance to beat Kyungsoo.

But it’s a risk Kyungsoo is willing to take.


	2. 002

Kyungsoo’s breath turns into steam in front of his face, fogging up the front of his mask, which isn’t covering his eyes at the moment--it’s on his forehead—but that might obstruct his vision later on. The frost magic users are going to have an advantage today, so it’s good they have one on their team: Minseok can control temperature. Kyungsoo has instructed him to play it safe for today, making sure that their members don’t slip on frozen tarmac.

The way these races work is simple: there’s a starting point, and a finishing point- usually on opposite sides of the city- and the first person—or all of the team members of one gang—to cross the finishing line wins. How you get there is irrelevant, and you can take as many shortcuts as you want. Using magic encouraged, because if you don’t use magic, then the other team  _will_ , and then you’re screwed.

Kyungsoo makes a few last checks on his bike, caressing the front proudly. He’s had this bike quite a while now, and she’s still as beautiful as ever. The panelling gleams because of his diligence in polishing and the engine runs as smoothly as water thanks to Wendy. He switches on the force field generator and watches her spring to life, the front half hovering above the ground level to the rest of the bike.

He locks eyes with Chanyeol, who is already on his bike itching to get started. His fingers appear to be on fire, and Kyungsoo hopes he doesn’t melt the bike. It’s happened before.

Straddling his own bike, he slowly makes his way up to the starting line, pushing it as far as he can over the line before someone spots him and tells him to move back. He complies. Kind of.

The others are lined up too, fitting wherever there’s space. Altogether they take up the whole road, and it’s probably dangerous to drive with them all so close together, but that’s the nature of the game. Danger is its middle name.

They’ve chosen an empty stretch of road to begin the race. A hot blonde wearing leather minishorts walks out holding two black flags. Kyungsoo has seen her face before, he’s sure. He's seen her hanging off of Joonmyeon’s arm. She poses, then holds the flags in the air above her head, the thin fabric rippling in the light breeze.

Kyungsoo holds his breath, muscles tensed.

A sweep of black followed by revving engines begins the race.

Kyungsoo starts off in fourth place. Disposing of those in front of him will be easy, so he’s not worried yet. All he has to do is get ahead, and he’ll be set. This is easier said than done, of course, but this is Kyungsoo. Best racer in Ordure. There’s no way he’ll lose.

Dilapidated buildings fly past him on either side, and he can’t see much in the darkness, as they’re not in the public part of the city yet, just one of the poorer residential areas. It makes for an eerie atmosphere, even though he knows that poor families live in almost all of these houses. He’ll try his best not to ruin anyone’s home, but he can’t make any promises.

It’s easier to ride in dry conditions, but that gives everyone more concentration to spare on using magic to sabotage each other’s progress. He ducks as a jet of water comes at his face, no doubt from Joonmyeon.  _Still a sore loser_ , he thinks, chuckling derisively.

Kyungsoo turns his head back quickly, spotting the leader of El Dorado just as he swerves and revs, ending up next to Kyungsoo. Rolling his eyes, the younger man speeds up, knowing Joonmyeon's bike isn't nearly as fast as his. He isn't as skilled in maneuvering either, so when Kyungsoo tears up the earth behind him, leaving jagged crags, he doesn't expect Joonmyeon to still be next to him. But he is, grinning at the raven-haired male as he rides next to him.

Kyungsoo tries to not look so flabbergasted and instead keeps his steel gaze on the road in front of him. Someone else will knock him out as always. It’s rare that he has to deal with Joonmyeon himself.

Joonmyeon is nothing like Kris, the late leader of Transformer - what El Dorado was called before it came under new management. While Kris was a difficult opponent, skilled in racing with his airborne bike, having beaten Kyungsoo often enough to the point where their scores were pretty much even, Joonmyeon’s skills lie in his experience with mechanics. Back when Kris was still the boss, he mostly stayed in the garage, which meant Kyungsoo barely knew who the hell he was before he showed up as the gang’s new leader a few months after Kris’s passing. And while he had built a rival/friend relationship with Kris, Kyungsoo despises Joonmyeon. Their personality clash and, as Kyungsoo has stated many, many times, the asshole is a sore loser.

As he looks over to said man again, Kyungsoo can tell something is off. Something is different and he’s extremely suspicious. They drive neck and neck, Joonmyeon’s bike toeing the lead just slightly before he speeds up and swerves, midnight coat flapping behind him as he passes Kyungsoo with obvious pride.

The leader of Playboy grits his teeth and spits out a curse, traveling right on Joonmyeon’s tail as they both speed through and onto multiple streets. He isn’t paying attention to anything around him or the sounds of destruction from the other racers. Streams of lights fly past the corners of his eyes so fast they almost blur into one color as they make it into the city, the majority of the streets empty as people have likely heard that El Dorado and Playboy are at it again. Those brave few outside at this time are in the streets, fearlessly cheering on the racers, not caring of the chance of being caught in the crossfire.

Kyungsoo is thrown for a loop when Joonmyeon suddenly turns down into an alleyway. Instinctively, he follows behind him but is unsure as to why Joonmyeon is taking some sort of a shortcut. Joonmyeon rarely deviates from the usual route, going the most basic way he can- he’s so predictable. But not today, it would seem.

By the time Kyungsoo realizes his mistake, as all the hustle and bustle of the city has disappeared behind them, Joonmyeon’s tires screech wildly as he swerves to a stop in a wide, empty lot.

A lot that's suddenly filled with a good bunch of El Dorado members.

Kyungsoo stops but doesn’t let the feeling of shock show on his features. Can he take them all on by himself? Realistically, no. He can’t even pinpoint each individual’s abilities.

He cracks his knuckles and prepares himself for one hell of a fight. If he can manage to at least take out the majority of them, he can run away. Not really his style, but there’s a race to win, and he doesn’t have much time to spare.

Hopping off of his bike and turning off the engine, Kyungsoo stands with his knees slightly bent as the others surround him. He pulls off his mask and fixes his hair with his hands.

“What a nice present for me, Joonmyeon, you are too kind,” he grins, focusing his eyes on the culprit, who is looking awfully proud of himself. “Are you too much of a fuckin’ coward to fight me alone?”

The leader’s expression wavers for a millisecond, but he manages to keep a straight face. “This is just to ensure you  _definitely_  won’t win. Did you really think I would give you the chance to have Exodus?”

Kyungsoo shrugs, folding his arms over his chest. “Not really. I knew there was going to be a catch. I’m not stupid. Anyways, you can try and fucking stop me all you want. If I don’t win,  _someone_  in my team will." He isn't the only one in the gang who is skilled at racing, and Kyungsoo is completely fine with someone else crossing the finish line in his place if it means he can kick Joonmyeon’s ass and win the overall race.

The older man narrows his eyes, and then snaps his fingers. “We’ll see about that.”

Kyungsoo gets no time to spout a witty reply, or even think, as a fist suddenly flies at him from his right. He dodges and spins, giving the offender a swift kick to the stomach—and that’s when all hell breaks loose.

He’s pushed around from the back and groans in pain from the impact as he’s thrown off balance enough for the guy in front of him to land a nasty knuckle sandwich. Kyungsoo feels his nose suffer from the blow, blood trickling down his lips, a bitter metallic flavor but not one he’s unused to. There’s too many of them to fight all at once,

“Nobody up for one-on-one?” He rolls his eyes when he doesn’t get an answer, slamming a shoulder back to push some people off of him and stomping on the ground, a mixture of cracked asphalt and earth forming a solid shield behind him, separating him from the goons he can’t see. Kyungsoo kicks and elbows, not really able to get a good punch thrown in with so many opponents clamoring around him. A gaunt blonde girl swings a roundhouse kick, and Kyungsoo manages to grab her leg, then, grunting and muscles flexing with the effort, he swings her around and over the crowd to land on the hard ground a few meters away.

He can’t make sure the move was even effective as a knee slams into his gut, winding him, and a fist pummels his face, a tooth or two suffering. He coughs up blood, sure that there will be one hell of a bruise later, but something like  _that_  could never knock him down. Rolling his shoulders and tilting his head back, he surveys the remainder of his opponents, all of them bearing down on him with the same gritty determination

It’s then that he realizes these are the members of El Dorado that don’t have magic abilities. Of course, Joonmyeon wouldn’t bother wasting all of his good people to take Kyungsoo out. He’d just pile all the weak racers together, counting on him being overwhelmed by the sheer numbers, and it’s sort of working. God fucking dammit, he wishes Joonmyeon wasn’t so smart.

That just means he can’t take his time here, the quicker he takes these assholes out the better, and if that means killing  _all of them_  so be it. If Joonmyeon won’t play by the fucking rules then neither will he.

Kyungsoo inhales slowly to steady himself, watching the gang members intently, watching out for any signs that they will make the first move, the flex of a muscle, the twitch of an eye, anything. Hoping to take them by surprise, he jumps on one of the guys in front of him with a shout that echoes in the small closed off space, shoving him down callously, skull connecting with the ground harshly, before moving to another.

It’s like his body moves on its own as he develops a rhythm, blocking out the throbbing pain so he can keep going. He fends off the relentless assault on all sides, rock shields flying up and protecting him as he takes them down one by one.

In next to no time, he has a quarter of his enemies injured or knocked out on the pavement, bodies strewn over the floor. A quick glance in Joonmyeon’s direction tells him the man is getting worried. Kyungsoo grins at that as he slams the heel of his shoe into someone’s face with a satisfying crunch. He’ll have to clean the blood off his clothes later, he thinks nonchalantly.

When his fists start to bleed, covered in blackening bruises, he slams them into the ground, rocks and gravel forming around his fists like a glove. He laughs maniacally, adrenaline pumping through his veins as those around him slowly start to become discouraged, looking at their leader for help. One particular guy—a  huge hulking tower of a man—steps back when Kyungsoo moves forward, a lunatic glint in his eye, and the latter cocks a brow.

“A tough guy like  _you_  can easily take on a little guy like  _me_ , right?” He taunts him, before dashing forward to take him down too. Kyungsoo’s armoured fist surges into the other man’s jaw and sends him flying across the pavement, landing with a sickening crack. He lays there, limbs twisted at an unnatural angle, unmoving.

Kyungsoo stands to his full height, gravel crumbling from his hand as he wipes the blood that’s still spilling from a deep cut on his swollen lip that came from some fucker who’d brought a knife. And when he looks around, catching his breath, he sees the remaining members just standing there - probably newbies that are scared to death.

He offers one last smile to Joonmyeon before giving him the finger and high-tailing it out of there and towards his bike, jumping on and revving it to life as he hears a shout from the El Dorado leader.

“Get back here, you  _fucking_  scumbag!” He hears Joonmyeon shriek from somewhere behind him. Kyungsoo pays it no mind, bike tire screeching as he peels out of the lot and in a random direction. Honestly speaking, he has no idea where he is—well, he has a vague idea, but not enough of one to get him back to the race and destroy Joonmyeon, who he can hear following him already.

He tries to go back the way they came, squinting at an approaching alleyway and hoping it’s the right one. Kyungsoo makes a left once he comes out to the road, upping his speed to a manageable pace that’ll allow him some time. He adjusts his arm to lay across one of the handlebars, tugging the sleeve of his jacket back to reveal the pristine, silvery watch given to him by his father shortly before he died. He reaches across, tapping the screen and watching it glow to life, displaying the time and other functions in a hologram that hovers before his face at the right distance. Wind whipping through his hair and burning his eyes without his mask to protect him, Kyungsoo pulls up a map and curses when he sees he’s going in completely the wrong direction, and, as if his night could get any worse, heading towards one of the huge fissures caused by the earthquake fifteen years ago. It was why most of this area was abandoned, all the previous residents having moved to another part of Ordure. Luckily, Kyungsoo had always been showered in illicit wealth, so he didn’t have to face that himself when he was younger, and they were able to rebuild the club bigger and better than before.

With a growl, he turns off the device, his mind spinning for some sort of solution. If he could only get across the fissure, there’s a roundabout way back to the track from the other side, which would leave him pretty far behind but still back in the game.

Kyungsoo glances behind him and sees Joonmyeon right on his tail, gaining on him quickly. Did he upgrade his bike? That would explain how he managed to one up him for once at the beginning of the race.

Well, it’s not like he can just turn around now. He continues to go straight towards the fissure, not slowing down in the slightest, the beginnings of an insane idea forming in his mind.

As it approaches in the distance, caution tape and warning signs splattered all over the edges, Junmyeon hollers, “What the hell are you doing?! Are you crazy, Kyungsoo?!”

 _Probably_ , he answers inwardly, eyebrows furrowing and jaw clenching as he concentrates.

With basically no time left to change his mind or rethink his initial idea, Kyungsoo stretches out a hand, upturning it and clawing the air in a sweeping motion. The last patch of asphalt before the drop-off raises itself and curves into a ramp. He doesn’t know if it’ll work, but it’s his only chance of making it to the other side.

Joonmyeon realizes his idea and swerves to a stop, waiting and watching with narrowed eyes and bated breath. Hopefully, Kyungsoo will plummet to his death, and he won’t have to worry any longer.

Kyungsoo isn’t fearless. He’d be an idiot if he were. His heart palpitates in his chest as he speeds towards the makeshift ramp, leaning forward and gathering all the speed he can, wishing he’d picked up his mask because he can barely see a thing. His bike glides smoothly across the curved asphalt, and he waits until the final moment to project his body up - and then he’s flying.

The wind sails past his ears and his heart stops as he looks down to see pitch black beneath him. Kyungsoo grips the handlebars tightly, his bruised knuckles aching from the strain, breath catching in his throat as he nears the other side, and for a second he’s sure he’s not going to make it, but then his bike is nosediving down for a rough landing.

Swiftly, his fingers move to press a button on the handlebars, the bike rumbling as the back tire retracts and is replaced by a pulsing forcefield like the front of the machine. This eases the landing as he lands just inches from the edge, the force jarring his teeth and nearly throwing him off the bike.

He sits upright, a bit dizzy, but his mind is mainly filled with  _holy shit_. Kyungsoo throws a breathless grin to the starless sky. And then, of course, flips the bird to Joonmyeon on the other side.

That was such a rush. Maybe he’ll even try it again sometime, when there isn’t a street and important business at stake.

Placing one of his feet on the ground, Kyungsoo presses the hidden button on the handgrip once more, the bike lurching before the back wheel pops back out in place, then shoots off again, whooping in euphoria. He’s got a race to win.

 

Kyungsoo opens the map on his watch again once he’s close to the inner city. He needs to search for some sort of shortcut that can bump him nearer to the finish line. The icy wind whips his dark bangs in his face as his eyes struggle to read the map, tapping a few things until he has the street views. And his eyes widen at the sight of where he is. Kyungsoo only has to take a few turns before he ends up on Exodus, where the finish line is.

Honestly, what luck he has.

With a prideful grin, he focuses back on the road, twisting and turning through the abandoned parts of the city. Soon enough, he hears the telltale sounds of explosions and tires shrieking in the distance, signaling that the race is still going on. Kyungsoo takes one last glimpse at the map hovering above his wrist once more before closing it and gathering himself. It’s going to be like running straight into hell once he reaches Exodus.

He realizes just how right he was when he reenters the main road and nearly right into a fire started by Chanyeol or someone else with igneous abilities. But with the familiar laughter echoing nearby, Kyungsoo has no doubt as to whom it is. A ripped up stop sign flies by his head and he quickly ducks, watching it propel ahead of him and smash into the glass window of a store display. Kyungsoo grins, glancing back just in time to see Chanyeol and Baekhyun chasing after a tanned girl with cropped cobalt hair riding a sleek crimson bike—Luna from El Dorado.

Baekhyun manages to spot their leader up ahead and calls out, “Kyungsoo, where the  _fuck_  have you been?!”

“Joonmyeon’s a cheating asshole!” Kyungsoo shouts back with no other explanation. “Who’s in the lead?”

The Leuod Fai abandons helping Chanyeol torment Luna and pulls up next to Kyungsoo, wind whipping their caramel hair back and forth. “You look like shit,” they comment. “Anyways, last time I checked, Jongdae and Sehun are in the lead. Krystal’s right behind them though, but you know how iffy her magic’s accuracy is.” They wave their hand in dismissal.

Kyungsoo deadpans, as best as he can with the frosty wind hitting him the face, like needles. “Who the hell are they?” He really regrets forgetting his mask.

“Jongdae is the guy that does the zippity-zap lightning and thunder thing? That guy with the scars on his face?” Baekhyun explains, flinching at another explosion Chanyeol causes behind them. “And—“

“Hold on,” Kyungsoo twists to right, summoning part of the crumbled asphalt to rise and pummels another rider, who thought to sneak up from the shadows, straight in the face. “Continue.”

“Sehun is the really young one with the pretty wings and stuff?” they purse their lips. “I’ve never really seen him in a race that often, much less in first place. By the way, you really need to learn names, Boss.”

“Shut up,” Kyungsoo intelligently replies, mood sour as he revs and leaves Baekhyun behind. It had taken him a while to learn all of the main members of his gang’s names. How could he be expected to learn members of another gang?

It’s only a little farther that Kyungsoo spots the three that Baekhyun had mentioned. Krystal is flanked by the two men on either side of her, blonde pigtails swishing in the wind. She looks to be in a tight situation, and with thunder rumbling in the blackened sky, he understands why she looks so tense. Kyungsoo knows they’re pinning her down and waiting for the lightning to strike. He can’t let that happen.

Reaching out, he raises two earth pillars as obstacles in Jongdae’s and Sehun’s way. They quickly swivel and swerve, tires shrieking, but Sehun isn’t quick enough and his bike smashes partially into the rock, throwing him to the ground and leaving a trail of glistening white feathers. Krystal stops and turns, confused for a moment, before smirking at the sight of her leader. She gives him a look as if to say “take control and win.” He nods gravely and accelerates to catch Jongdae, locking onto his target like an old missile.

Everything is loud in his ears as he whips past other racers and civilians, gaining on the lighting caster meter by meter. He squints against the backlash of air, and wonders how he should take this guy out. He wants it to be showy, a spectacle, something that will teach Joonmyeon not to make stupid ass deals like this and expect it to work in his favor.

It would be beautifully ironic if he caused a fissure for him to fall into like the one Kyungsoo jumped, but it isn’t big enough. An earthquake? No, he doesn’t want to ruin the street, just this one guy. He thinks back to a movie he once watched, an antique, and suddenly he has it.

Very slowly, wobbling slightly, he removes his hands from the handlebars and sits up on his bike, holding on tight with his knees. Forcing one hand up, a huge square-ish chunk of the road rises into the air, and follows the lighting caster. Kyungsoo does it again, so now there are two giant cubes of rock and earth floating behind him. He doesn’t seem to have noticed yet, which makes Kyungsoo smile maliciously. He has no idea what’s coming to him.

By the time there are six of these monoliths whirling around the lightening caster’s bike in a circle shape, Kyungsoo is under a considerable amount of strain, sweating to keep control of the rock and his bike at the same time. But his plan doesn’t stop there.

He raises his hands till they’re just above his head and starts to swing them around, groaning under the weight. The massive hunks of earth follow his command, and begin to circle the guy as they speed along the roads. He tries to dodge around them, but Kyungsoo blocks him off vindictively

Kyungsoo realizes that he should probably hurry up, since he’s cutting this rather fine, the finish line being so close and all.

As he swings his hands around his head, he brings them in closer, and closer, moving faster and faster, till the rocks are revolving around the biker so fast they make a whoosh sound as they cut through the air. The biker futilely blasts his blue lightning at the floating stones, but it doesn’t affect them in the slightest. With one final push, he clasps his hands, making the rocks cluster together, and the motion stops altogether. He hears screaming from inside the hollow ball of earth and laughs as he whizzes by, knowing that his team will have to dig him out of there.

With no one left to threaten his victory, he takes it steadily until the finish line is in sight. He crosses the line to the ecstatic cheers of his gang and shocked silence of El Dorado. He waves regally at them, before dismounting from his bike and running into the waiting arms of his sister.

“Kyungsoo!” She cries, latching onto him tightly and jumping up and down, “I can’t believe you won! This is so great!”

Kyungsoo hugs her back, not even caring that she sounds surprised. She should know by now that he’s the best of the best. Yixing approaches them next, making it a group hug,

“Congrats,” He says, refraining from ruffling his hair like he used to do. Kyungsoo made him stop when he was twelve, claiming it was an insult to his dignity.

“Thanks. Joonmyeon was a lying, cheating bastard, though,” He spits on the ground, slightly surprised that his lip is still bleeding,

“What? What did the little fucker do this time?”

“He set up an ambush with about twenty non-magicals on me,” he grumbles, wiping his face on his sleeve but only succeeding in smearing the blood all over his face. Yeri comes to the rescue, whipping out a tissue and wiping his face for him.

“The little turd nugget,” Yixing scowls at the rest of El Dorado as if his personality were imprinted on the rest of them, and each of them responsible for this.

“On the plus side, we now own Exodus,” Kyungsoo grins, gesturing grandly. Yixing raises his hands above his head and starts clapping, and soon the rest of his gang follow suite. This increases the antagonism from the opposing gang, but their words of abuse can’t be heard over the sound of applause.

A few moments later Krystal arrives, pulling back so she’s balancing on one wheel as she crosses the line and making her audience go wild, professions of love coming at her from all directions. Such a show off, Kyungsoo thinks fondly.

As each member crosses the line, the crowd converges in the center to greet them, and when Joonmyeon arrives, much later, he is glaring so angrily that he could be burning holes in everything he looks at. Playboy drowns out the smattering of applause from his gang with hurls of insults and even rocks and other unidentifiable objects. Kyungsoo raises his eyebrows, daring him to object to this treatment. He looks away, and Kyungsoo nods.  _Yeah, that’s right_ , he thinks, watching him from the corner of his eye with disdain.

Baekhyun comes up behind him, along with Chanyeol as always—they tend to stay together when racing for convenience—and slings his arm over his shoulders,

“You know you got a massive scratch on your bike, right?” They say. Kyungsoo looks to his pride and joy, hoping they’re just kidding, but no, there really is a huge scratch in the black paint, a metallic streak that looks like something struck it and dragged two spikes down the length. He runs to it and drops to his knees, aghast,

“No!” He cries out, delicately stroking along the line with trembling fingers. He curses colorfully. Not only has he lost his mask- an expensive model equipped with night vision capabilities and map projection- and almost died in a fist fight, but now his bike is ruined too. Today is just not his day.

A hand clamps down on his shoulder, making him jump,

“Hey, Wendy can fix that easy,” they say, patting him lightly. Of course, logically Kyungsoo knows this, but he wants to be upset about this right now. He nods sadly, and strokes his baby one last time.

 

A shrill beeping sound permeates the room, waking the slumbering gang leader.

 _What’s that noise?_  Kyungsoo screws his eyes shut and drags his hands over his face, groaning quietly. The moment he begins to move his head starts to hurt, the kind of headache where it feels like your brain is inflating and swelling so much your skull might explode.

He cracks his eyes open a sliver and wishes he hadn’t: he keeps his bedroom dark, but it’s still too bright for his sensitive eyes. He groans again, wanting nothing more than to roll over and go back to sleep, but as the leader, he has somewhat of an image to uphold. If he can’t get on with things with a hangover, then the others have an excuse to do that too. Taking tiny baby steps, he shuffles into the bathroom, wanting to cower at the harsh light that illuminates the large, lavish room, and brushes his teeth. Gently.

After that he makes his way downstairs, careful not to jostle anything as he goes.

What even happened last night? He remembers getting back to the club, and taking his poor bike to the garage: Wendy had promised to take good care of it. Then he had gone up to the main club and had a few drinks. Flashing lights and dancing. Did he hook up with someone in the back alley or was that a ghost of a memory long gone?

Obviously he’d had more than he thought, though, as he hasn’t had this bad a morning in a long while. He guesses he can just put it down to celebrating; after all they’d gained new, high value territory. A good reason if any to down a few pints of toxic waste.

The kitchen is bright too, and much cleaner than his bathroom, so the light glares off everything and makes the throbbing in his head increase tenfold. He covers his face with his hands to block it out and blindly goes to the table to sit down, not even registering that he just interrupted a conversation. One of the people in here leaves after he’s seated.

“Kyungsoo? Are you ok? You don’t look so good,” Yixing’s normally soft voice sounds abnormally loud in his ears.

“Shut up,” he cringes away from it. He definitely had way more than he thought.

“C’mere,” Yixing mumbles, standing up and cradling Kyungsoo’s skull. Something happens inside his head, like a pipe bursting, and then suddenly a lot of the pressure is fizzing out. He relaxes, leaning against the table, and opens his eyes. He’s not one hundred percent as Yixing can only do so much if it’s not a flesh wound, but he’s better than before.

“Thanks,”

“Anytime,” Yixing promises, sitting back down on the other side of the table. It’s not a very big kitchen, since although a lot of the gang members live in tiny rooms upstairs, unlike the large room he has, most of them prefer to eat their meals away from the club. But it’s serviceable, and the oven actually works now.

“Is anyone making breakfast?” Kyungsoo asks, stomach rumbling.

“No. Feel free to do it yourself. The rest of us just had cereal.”

“Ugh,” he complains, heaving himself to his feet again and making his way over to the cupboard. He doesn’t have the willpower to make anything more complicated than cereal either. No one speaks as Kyungsoo fills his bowl with cereal, the musical clinking fills the silence nicely though, and it doesn’t bother him at all. The chair squeaks as he sits down, and begins to eat his cereal dry.

“Good morning,” Minseok greets as he waltzes in and seats himself opposite Kyungsoo, getting himself a bowl of his own.

“Morning,” he replies, staring at nothing in particular. Spacing out a little, he allows himself to think of what happened the other night. He can’t believe that it was just two days ago, it feels like a lot more time has passed since then—since Jongin appeared out of nowhere, for no discernable reason. Just why was Jongin here? It wouldn’t be just for a good fuck; knowing Jongin, he could find that anywhere.

“What are you looking so angry about now?” Yixing nudges him playfully.

Kyungsoo swallows, “I saw Jongin the other day,” he says quietly.

“What, really?” Yixing frowns.

Minseok butts in, looking excited. “What did he want?” He asks, before shovelling the cereal into his mouth like a slovenly bachelor.

“I don’t know.” He’s not exactly lying. Jongin didn’t specifically tell him what he was there for, but if that kiss was anything to go by then he could probably hazard a guess to one reason. He won’t mention that part to them, however, as it would lead to a great deal of questions he doesn’t want to answer, ever, especially not at this time in the morning.

“You should ask him to join us,” Minseok implores. Kyungsoo raises his eyebrows at this suggestion, surprised that he would even think of such a thing. Jongin was the enemy; he used to be one of the top racers in Transformer, even without his magic. But then the incident happened and everything went wrong.

“I don’t know, Minseok, I’m not sure that’s such a good idea,” he says between mouthfuls. “I mean, we all know what he did before he vanished, who’s to say it won’t happen again?” He deflects. To be brutally honest, what he did doesn’t even matter  _that_  much to him; most of them have done something similar at some point, albeit in completely different circumstances, and maybe not gone that far. It’s just part of this life. The main reason he doesn’t want Jongin around is because of their history. Kyungsoo knows that having slept with someone from Transformer/El Dorado of all gangs will especially ignite some anger within his gang, even if it was in the past.

“Aw, c’mon, Kyungsoo, if we had Jongin on our team we’d be unstoppable!” Minseok accidentally flicks milk all over the table in his excitement, and it grates on Kyungsoo’s nerves.

“Minseok, I am the best racer we have, ok? Do you even know what I did yesterday? I was basically in last position, yet I pulled it back to first and won the damn thing, after killing about twenty El Dorado assholes. We don’t need Jongin, understood?” He crunches his cereal extra viciously, giving him a berating look.

“I’m not saying we  _need_  him. Just that if he was here then there would be no way for Joonmyeon to ever win. Ever.”

“I’m not going to ask him. I have no idea why he was here in the first place, or if he’ll show up again. He’s probably on the other side of the planet right now, and I could not care less. It’s not happening, Minseok.”

“Ok, ok fine,” Minseok replies, sending Yixing a glance as to ask what’s up with Kyungsoo’s attitude.

Kyungsoo finishes up the last of his cereal and tosses the empty bowl in the sink, then leaves without so much of a glance back at either of the two men sitting at the table.

 

Kyungsoo takes his time getting dressed and ready for the day. He prides himself on his appearance, knowing he has to reflect the gang’s status and uphold its reputation. He never really understood it at first, but it was something his father always reminded him of, never letting Kyungsoo go out in anything sloppy or lazy.

Plus, something has to distract from his small stature.

He spends a little while in his “office”—for lack of a better term—and discusses business with a newbie gang on the phone, which may or may not have ended with Kyungsoo cussing out the offending leader and telling him that  _he’ll shove his head so far up his fucking ass he’ll never see the light of day again_. Something along those lines. He doesn’t think they’ll last very long whether he agrees to Kyungsoo’s terms or not.

He also takes a long while to call up every establishment that lies on Exodus, informing them of their new  _sponsor_  and letting them know there will be a few Playboy members visiting them to discuss future business. Most of them are so shell-shocked about the new ownership that they don't even argue. El Dorado/Transformer had owned them for quite some time after all, dating back to Kris's mother when she was the leader.

He doesn't really care about sentimental shit like that. He knows Playboy can be much crueler than El Dorado, and he doesn't care. That's just how things work.

Kyungsoo really has no other plans once he finishes, unless someone challenges him to another race, but they’re still pretty roughed up from the last one. It seems Joonmyeon wasn’t the only one in El Dorado who went all out.

As he walks down the many flights of stairs, he glances down at his own bruised and scarred knuckles. He’ll go and visit Yixing in the basement, where the makeshift healing room is. Kyungsoo needs to check up on the injured members anyways, see if they suffered any major losses as well.

Once he reaches the lower level, placed just below the entrance floor and two floors below the club, Kyungsoo finds Yixing trying to hush a stubborn Chanyeol, gripping his jaw and turning his face to the side. The healer hovers a hand over a cut on the side of the red-haired male’s head, and in no time, the wound slowly stitches itself up. Kyungsoo shudders, it’s always creepy to see that happening, but Yixing seems to have a stomach of steel. The healer reaches for a clean, wet cloth and wipes up the dried blood. He continues on as Chanyeol pouts and mumbles something about wanting Baekhyun and their little lights, but they seem to have gotten away without injury, so they aren’t here.

“Kyungsoo?” A hand settles on his shoulder and a finger pokes into his cheek as he turns around, spotting Yeri, who grins up at him.

"Whatcha up to?" she asks as Kyungsoo turns around.

He lifts his hands, showcasing the blooming violet and red bruises dusting his knuckles as well as the hardly healing blisters. Yeri's eyes go wide. She grabs his hand, causing him to wince, and inspects the wounds closely. "What'd you do?! Ride your bike with your arms dangling down?"

"I had to beat up a shit ton of people that Joonmyeon ambushed me with," he answers reluctantly. He's never really liked talking about the things he does to Yeri, especially topics dealing with violence. He knows it's unavoidable now that Yeri is an adult, but part of him is still viewing her as his little baby sister.

"I heard about that," she replies with a frown. "Isn't that against the rules?"

"Pretty much," Kyungsoo shrugs. "I won though, so I won't wage a huge war or anything."

Yeri grins before tugging on his hand and leading him to one of the benches. "Yixing is busy, so I can heal you!"

Kyungsoo offers one of his rare smiles to her as she focuses on healing his minor injury, her small, cute face scrunching up in concentration. He sits patiently on the bench, just watching the blisters slowly fade. She doesn't have as much experience as Yixing, so it doesn't come as naturally to her. And when Kyungsoo looks up, he sees Yixing peering silently over Yeri's shoulder with a pleased smile.

"Did we suffer any losses last night?" Kyungsoo asks as Yeri moves to heal his other hand.

Yixing shakes his head. "There were a few close cases. El Dorado must be getting fed up with losing, like Joonmyeon."

"He's just getting desperate at this point," Kyungsoo rolls his eyes.

"Okay...there!" Yeri rubs the skin on Kyungsoo's knuckles once for good measure before letting go of his hands. "Does it hurt anymore?"

"No, it feels a lot better," he hops down from the bench, adjusting the jacket he'd strewn over his shoulders. "Thank you, Yeri." Kyungsoo ruffles her blonde hair, making it all frizzy and causing her to slap his hand away with a laugh, hurriedly fixing her hair after with a pout.

He thanks Yixing as well, for the report, and turns to head to the garage, only for Yixing to catch him

by the shoulder at the last minute.

"Are you still thinking about letting Jongin join?" he asks.

"I already said no," Kyungsoo glares, annoyed by the fact that even the peace-loving Yixing is trying to convince him.

"Kim Jongin?" Yeri questions.

"It's nothing," he quickly says, shrugging off Yixing's grip. Kyungsoo sees Yeri frown before he leaves, but he'd rather not involve her in gang affairs that discusses the eligibility of cold blooded murderers with pretty lips to join them - especially lips that he's kissed.

His expensive shoes clip against the concrete flooring as he steps into the garage on the ground-level floor. The lights are bright and illuminate the grubby white walls. Bubbly pop music echoes throughout the space from one of the cars parked in the corner. Kyungsoo finds Wendy, Playboy's main mechanic, fiddling with one of the bikes, her long blonde hair tied in a messy bun and a lollipop perched between her lips as she concentrates on replacing one of the wheels. When he approaches, she eyes him with suspicion but says nothing. Kyungsoo watches her continue to work for a moment, pulling out a cigarette and smoking as he walks around, searching for his own bike to see if the scratch is still there.

Wendy's upper lip curls in disgust. "If you're going to smoke, don't come in here, you fucking ashtray."

Kyungsoo just smirks. Wendy is one of the only people he allows to speak to him comfortably, other than his main team. Just to spite her playfully, he flicks ashes onto the floor. Wendy huffs and rolls her eyes, muttering insults.

"Have you fixed my bike yet?" he asks.

She scoffs. "You mean that tiny little scratch? I have tons of bikes to practically rebuild from scratch because you assholes can't control yourselves. A little scratch is the least of my worries."

Kyungsoo gives her a look.

"...I'll have it fixed by tonight," she says quietly, going back to her work. Kyungsoo turns his attention elsewhere, blowing billowing clouds of smoke into the air every so often. He strolls over to his own car, one of the newest models and, of course, with a flawless black exterior. He rarely uses it as he prefers his bike, but he did participate in a few drag races when he was a teenager. Those gave him nowhere near the rush he gets now during the street races.

He toys with the idea of taking it out for a spin tonight, only for Wendy to suddenly speak up.

"So people are gossiping about Kim Jongin again," she looks up with a smile. "What's that about?"

Kyungsoo sighs, rubbing out his cigarette into the ashtray on one of the shelves before lighting another and sticking it between his lips. "I saw him the other night, and I let it slip. Now the others want me to recruit him or let him join or some shit."

"You don't want him to join?" she raises a bleached eyebrow, "because he murdered Kris and Luhan from Transformer? You've killed plenty of people, Boss. Yesterday you killed, what was it, twenty?"

Kyungsoo rolls his eyes, blowing out a puff of smoke and watching it swim in the air. "He deliberately dismembered them. They found little pieces of them everywhere. Don't you think that's a  _little_  fucked up?"

"We have all kinds of fucked up in Playboy. Take Chanyeol for instance. He'll fit in just fine." Wendy sits up, resting her grease-stained arms on the seat of the bike, wrench dangling from her hands. "Now tell me the real reason," she says with a sly grin.

Kyungsoo narrows his eyes. Wendy was gifted with lie detection magic, and she never failed to percept when he was lying or straying from the truth. But she was also trustworthy and rarely talked to anyone, preferring to be alone in the garage, so he knew she would keep his secret.

With a smoke-filled sigh, he answers. "We may have fucked once or twice."

Wendy stares at him.

"...Okay, it was many times," he admits with a grumble. "I just don't want people to know that I, their leader, slept with a Transformer member behind their backs."

"You know the others won't care about that, especially since it happened in the past," Wendy replies. "Besides, it's not like they have to know...unless you still like him?"

"He had a nice ass, probably still does," he deadpans, finishing his cigarette and leaving it in the ashtray.

"Yeah, okay, too much information there," she wrinkles her nose in distaste before sliding back down to get back to work. Kyungsoo turns back to his car, contemplatively. Even if his baby will be fine by tonight, he hasn’t driven his car in a while, so he should probably go for a drive. Tonight seems like the perfect opportunity.

 

It’s dark now, almost midnight, and the city lights are illuminating the darkness and creating glistening mirages on the paved streets, and in the raindrops on his windscreen.

He forgot how quiet it is inside a vehicle like this, without the wind rushing past his ears and whipping through his hair, but it’s a nice reprieve from all the racing he’s been doing lately, he thinks, disobeying all kinds of traffic laws and darting in and out of the almost stationary cars. He loves racing, it’s one of the best things in his life, but if you do too much of anything it can become boring, or bad.

Talking about Jongin all day with so many people has left him with his face preying on his mind.

It had started innocently; they’d seen each other in races frequently after all. Then Jongin had turned up at the club, and Kyungsoo had been confused, but hadn’t really thought much of it at first, apart from all the staring.

Then a few days later he’d shown up again, and somehow persuaded Kyungsoo to dance with him. Well, he had been very drunk, so he probably hadn’t had to try that hard to get him on his feet.

Kyungsoo sighed. It was after that dance that everything started going downhill. Inebriated, Kyungsoo had dragged Jongin out back into the alleyway between the club and the neighboring building, and pushed him up against the grimy wall. It had been raining that night too, he recalls, switching on the windscreen wipers.

It kept getting worse and worse, pushing the limits so to speak. After making out in the alley, Kyungsoo dared himself to do it in the corner of the club, where anyone could see them and figure out what was going on between them. No one ever did, as far as he knows, but it had still felt like the most dangerous thing at the time, besides crashing or dying.

Upping the ante, the next time they saw each other Kyungsoo brought him back into the alleyway and sank to his knees, giving Jongin his first blowjob. He remembers that time with a certain degree of fondness, because Jongin had seemed so sensual, so sure before that, but came apart at his touch so quickly.

With a sigh, Kyungsoo puts his foot down and speeds down the road, before doing an illegal maneuver and looping around to head back to the club. It had only been two weeks or so after  _that_  that Kyungsoo had brought him to his room for the first time. Then the second time. And the third. And again, and again, and again.

 

_Kyungsoo leans with his back against the dirty wall, between two dripping drainpipes that lead directly to the sewers below, careful not to get his leather jacket too wet. He takes a long drag on his cigarette, enjoying the silence out here. Running the gang is more stressful than he thought it would be- his father had made it look so easy, but he understands now why he never gave up with his cigars._

_A crack and a puff of black smoke alerts him to Jongin’s arrival. Looking up, he sees Jongin close by, stumbling on re-entry. He looks upset. Is he- is he_ crying _?_

_“Having family issues?” Kyungsoo remarks snidely. If he lets on that he’s even a little bit curious he might start getting attached and that’s the last thing Kyungsoo wants. The next thing he knows they’ll be doing each other’s nails and talking about love and shit._

_Jongin saunters closer, laughing in a way that makes Kyungsoo think he doesn’t really find it funny at all. As he leans in, Kyungsoo’s eyes drop to his plush lips, and his own fall open in anticipation. Jongin gets the message quickly, ducking down to kiss him and pushing the smaller man up against the wall, pinning their torsos together. The kiss is by no means gentle, it never is, and Kyungsoo tosses his cigarette to the ground carelessly in favor of clutching at Jongin’s hair to hold him still, as he roughly bites his lip and licks into his mouth. Jongin kisses a wet trail down the column of his neck, and bites the juncture of his neck and shoulder, making him gasp, then licking and sucking the stinging area to soothe it. Kyungsoo lets his head fall back against the wall at the feeling. He finds himself moaning as Jongin inches his knee between his thighs, and the temperature goes up a few notches. Kyungsoo’s hands roam down to grope his ass—if there is one thing he is fond of it’s his ass—and in doing so he presses their crotches together, grinding slowly._

_“My room,” he pauses for half a second to grunt the words against the blond haired man’s mouth, but before he can even open his eyes they’re already there._

_Kyungsoo walks them backwards, but flips them around at the last moment so that he is the one kneeling over the other when they lie on the bed. He smirks down at him, then sits up and removes his jacket, dropping it by the side of the bed. The vest he was wearing underneath is skin tight, so he peels it off his body, unhurriedly revealing himself and taking pride in the way Jongin seems enraptured, breath hitching and lower lip caught between his teeth. The sight of him like this makes his cock twitch._

_Too horny to wait much longer, Kyungsoo tears Jongin’s clothes off him, and wastes no time sucking hickies onto his bare golden chest, and drags his teeth over his hardened nipples, making his back arch off the mattress._

_Yanking down his jeans, Kyungsoo trails his fingers lightly over the inside of his thigh just to watch him squirm, proud that he can affect someone who is usually so stoic._

_The preparation is brief and probably insufficient, but Jongin moans and begs for it, so who is he to deny that? With the taller man on his knees in front of him, Kyungsoo brushes his slick entrance with the tip of his cock and pushes inside, the warmth of Jongin enclosed tightly around him makes his mouth fall open. It’s been a while._

_He doesn’t wait for Jongin to adjust, instead moving his hips forwards and setting a rough pace that has his head almost hitting the wall with every thrust. Without pausing, he re-adjusts Jongin’s stance so his legs are spread wider, allowing him to fuck him deeper, and coaxing the first noise out of him._

_When the blond is breathing heavily, and Kyungsoo is drawing nearer to his climax, he leans over his back and fucks him harder and faster, his balls slapping against his perineum._

_“Ngh, hard-harder,” Jongin pleads, so obligingly Kyungsoo ploughs into him from behind._

_“Jack yourself off,” he commands, licking his lips as his muscles roil under his tan skin. He would probably spend all day fucking this man if he could._

_Finally, with a cry, the younger man spurts all over Kyungsoo’s bedsheets. A moment later Kyungsoo pulls out and comes on Jongin’s ass, leaving white ropes dripping down his backside. It’s a good look for him, he thinks._

_“Nice,” Jongin comments breathily, rising up so he’s only on his knees. He peers down over his back to get a better look as Kyungsoo starts dressing himself in what he normally wears to sleep in, before rolling his eyes and reaching for the tissue box with a distasteful curl in his lip. Kyungsoo winks at him._

_When Jongin is clean and dressed, Kyungsoo blinks and suddenly he’s gone._

_That’s the last he sees of him for several years._

 

They hadn’t been anything more than fuckbuddies, no emotions whatsoever, so Kyungsoo hadn’t worried about him or cared all that much when Jongin had vanished. No one could say that his disappearance was unexpected, he’d killed two people after all: two people who were apparently like parents to him. He was a murderer, a psychopath.

A lot of people in Playboy had killed someone, but the circumstances were different. Killing someone in a race was different to taking only part of someone with you when teleporting, and leaving parts of the bodies spread across a room. Sometimes Kyungsoo wondered whether he’d killed them before or after he’d fucked him.

He feels conflicted, with no obvious right or wrong and answer.

Should he ask Jongin to join Playboy? If he doesn’t then they could lose out on a huge asset for the gang, but then if he does he runs the risk of his secret being exposed to everyone, and Kyungsoo is too prideful for that by far. He’d be humiliated, even if Wendy said no one would give a shit. It’s the principle of the thing.

And also there’s the temptation of falling back into bed with him. He’d almost done it the other night. He knew better, but it still almost happened, and it would have if those kids hadn’t interrupted.

Frustrated, Kyungsoo pulls up into the garage with a shriek of tires that has Wendy glaring daggers at him, and stomping up to his room, slamming all the doors behind him. Wendy yells after him but he misses what she says, words muffled by the door and the distance he’s already put between them.

He’ll just wait for him to turn up again and only mention it if the subject comes up in conversation. Which means it won’t, because they never talked to each other about anything then, so why start now?

Kyungsoo falls back onto his bed, the mattress bouncing under his weight. He grabs a pillow and presses his face into it, groaning. Jongin has probably vanished for good this time, Kyungsoo thinks with a mixture of hope and disappointment.

But then, that’s what he thought before he showed up in the club two nights ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kudos, comments, bookmarks always appreciated! thank u


	3. 003

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> co-written by memefucker69 & thatweirdo on aff

“So fifty percent sounds fair?” Kyungsoo crosses his arms in front of him, leering down at the pathetic man behind the till. They’re in a fancy clothing shop, a popular one, making sure their clientele know who’s in charge now. This is their last stop before going back to the club, and Kyungsoo is a little tired of repeating himself.

“R-Right now?!” the skinny bespectacled man squeaks, cowering before him, hands shaking. Kyungsoo smirks, and hears Minseok shift behind him, displaying his prominent muscles no doubt. It would seem as though this shop brings in a lot of cash, so maybe if he took the payment now, it wouldn’t hurt. But that might upset the routine they have planned out, so Kyungsoo shakes his head.

“No, we’ll collect it Sunday. Make sure you have it ready; we aren’t as... _lenient_  as El Dorado.”  Kyungsoo warns. Minseok cracks his knuckles, making the tiny man quiver in fear, nervous fingers skittering over the ancient keyboard that looks nearly as old as the man does.

“Understood, sir,” The elderly man ducks his head down. Kyungsoo thinks he could get used to this. A lot of his  _clients_  have a sort of defiant glare which amuses him since there’s no way any of them could take him down if it  came to a fight, but this reverence is something he rather likes.

“Hmm, at least we didn’t have to break anything this time, huh, Minseok?” Kyungsoo says offhandedly, gesturing at all the carefully displayed suits and dresses. They’d had to destroy a few products in some of the other shops they’d visited. Just so the owners really got the message. Call him malicious, but he really enjoyed the way the fear seeped into their eyes as Minseok crushed things with his bare hands and tossed them on the floor carelessly. It was entertaining.

“No, sir, of course not, sir,”

“Good. I’m glad we got this sorted out, aren’t you?” Kyungsoo smiles sweetly, “Well, see you in a few days, Mr. Choi,” Kyungsoo claps his hands once, and they head out the way they came, the glass door sliding upwards to let them out.

Once outside, Kyungsoo looks up and down their new territory, pleased that they now own such a large retail area. Shops are much easier to siphon money from than drugs, which means potentially less work, but then if they’re too reckless or ostentatious, as always, they risk drawing attention from the police.

The late afternoon sunlight glints off the hood of Kyungsoo’s motorcycle as they draw nearer, and Kyungsoo smiles for real this time. He’s had a pretty good day by all accounts.

“I think that went pretty well, huh, Boss?” Minseok grins at him, putting on the leather jacket that lay over the handlebars of his bike. He’d been wearing only a sleeveless white top before that, all the better to showcase his rippling arm muscles. If you looked from a certain angle, you could see the raises and dips of his abs, too.

“Yeah, not too bad. That woman’s face when you smashed that vase was priceless,” Kyungsoo comments, thinking back the antiques store owned by a lady called Mrs. Jiang, according to the list he had in his pocket.

Minseok laughs, before mounting his own bike, a surprisingly delicate model in a deep shimmering shade of blue, “So was the vase,”

Kyungsoo swings his leg over the body of his motorcycle, and slips his brand new mask over his face—an even better one than his old one, this one has a mechanism that is resistant to water and steam and anything else that might obstruct his vision—and gets ready to head back to the club.

He revs, but just as he is about to go, a crack echoes off the nearby buildings and black smoke swirls across the road in front of them.

Before he can wrap his head around what’s happening, a hand lands on his arm and when he blinks he’s in a different place. Surrounding him are crumbled buildings, and it’s completely silent, opposed to the constant buzzing of the city. He’s standing on a cracked and old road, one that probably hasn’t been used in a long, long time. It was probably put out of use from the earthquake. Kyungsoo spins and Jongin is standing behind him, still holding onto Kyungsoo’s upper arm.

With a harsh glare, he shoves the younger man’s hand off of him. “What the  _fuck_ , Jongin?” Kyungsoo grumbles, opening his mouth to give him an earful before he stops and relents.

The last time he’d seen Jongin it had been in very low lighting, in both the club and Kyungsoo’s room. But now it’s daylight, and though it’s a cold day, the sky is completely clear and the sun is shining.

He can see Jongin clearly now. His hair is no longer that shocking blond; it’s dark, probably his natural color, and falls into his eyes. Kyungsoo remembers how Jongin used to style it up all wildly to show off, but he supposes Jongin has no one to show off to anymore. If possible, Jongin looks paler than he used to be, his caramel skin no longer having that healthy glow to it. He seems skinnier too, cheekbones more prominent, and his eyes are tired and dull, dark circles beneath them like he hadn’t slept in days. It was as if all the life was sucked out of someone who used to shine so brightly.

Anger slowly trickling out of his veins, Kyungsoo sighs, but doesn’t wipe off his glare. He folds his arms across his chest. “Stop fucking doing this every time you want to talk to me. I have things to do, and I don’t have time for you. Say what you need to say, or whatever, and then take me back.”

“I need your help,” Jongin replies quietly after a moment. He tugs his jacket closer to himself when the wind picks up.

“Nice, I can’t help you.” Kyungsoo deadpans before latching onto Jongin’s wrist. “Take me back.”

Jongin ignores him. “Please,” he begs, eyes meeting Kyungsoo’s beseechingly. “I-I got into some trouble, and I can’t face them all at once.”

“With who?” Kyungsoo finds himself asking, even though part of him wants to force Jongin to take him back to Playboy.

“Breakdown,” he answers.

Kyungsoo slaps his forehead and drags his hand down his face. “Breakdown. Of course. Of all gangs, you had to mess with  _Breakdown_.” Breakdown is a fairly large gang, just a little bit bigger than Playboy and El Dorado, located in the next city over. It has also been around for a long time, and is notoriously violent. Therefore, Kyungsoo would rather not interfere with their affairs. Trouble with Breakdown meant death.

“Please, Kyungsoo. I don’t need you to help me fight them or something, but I need...just let me join Playboy,” Jongin says frantically, grasping at straws to get Kyungsoo to help him in some way.

“It doesn’t matter! Even if I offer you protection, Breakdown will find out, and who will they attack? My gang, not just you. Not to mention that once El Dorado finds out you’re a part of my gang, Junmyeon will be at my neck. Find. Someone. Else,” he sneers.

“I have no one else!” Jongin raises his voice. “Do you think anyone else would even  _listen_ to me right now? I’m fully aware that El Dorado wants me, and no one else stands a chance against them or Breakdown. But you do—Playboy does.” He lets out a breath. “Just please. Help me.”

Kyungsoo wants to deny him again, but he knows Jongin is right. He honestly didn’t really care if Jongin lived or died; that just meant one less thorn in Kyungsoo’s side. But on the other hand, a lot of Playboy wanted Jongin to join their gang. The rumor had floated around the gang the past few days, and many are now on board with the unofficial decision. The older man bit his lip in thought but soon sighed and relaxed his posture.

“Fine,” he finally says, “I’ll let you join Playboy –on one condition.”

Jongin’s eyes light up with relief. “What condition?”

“This,” Kyungsoo gestures between the two of them, “and all the things that we did in the past are between just you and me. You tell anyone, and I’ll hand you over to El Dorado or Breakdown myself. You know they’ll kill you in an instant, and I won’t give a shit. So if I were you, I wouldn’t say a thing.”

“Ok, got it. So I’m in?” Jongin runs a hand through his hair, and Kyungsoo pretends not to notice how it flops over his tired eyes and the relief evident on his gaunt face.

“I guess so. Take us back.” He holds out a hand like he’s expecting a handshake, and, after a moment, Jongin takes it. The next thing Kyungsoo knows, they’re stood outside Playboy’s main entrance, the neon lights not on yet, as it is still light outside.

Snatching his hand back, Kyungsoo rolls his shoulders and strides inside, paying no heed to the few people sat lounging at the tables. Someone takes their feet off the table as he walks by.

At first no one really pays that much attention to his arrival; he’s always in and out of the place, and it would be silly to expect everyone to greet him all the time, but as Kyungsoo makes his way to the bar where Victoria is, he notices a hush sweep across the room, and can only attribute it to the fact that Jongin is here.

He doesn’t turn around, waiting for Jongin to seat himself next to him at the bar.

“Hey, Vic, got anything special for me today?” He asks, feeling like he needs something to take the edge off after agreeing to let Jongin join. Victoria turns her face towards him, eyes following after. She must be staring at the new arrival, he thinks. Hardly surprising, he hadn’t shown his face anywhere near here in two years.

“Hm?”

“I need a drink,” He says, leaning on the counter.

“Is that..?” Victoria jerks her head at Jongin, presumably. Kyungsoo rolls his eyes.

“A drink, please, Victoria,” He is vaguely aware of Jongin sitting next to him, a dark shadow of a person infiltrating his peripheral vision.

“Ok, ok, sheesh,” She mutters, flicking her long black hair over her shoulder as she turns to make something for him. It’s not even six in the evening, but Kyungsoo doesn’t care right now.  But he does know that if he carries on drinking then by the time the club opens he’s going to be absolutely wasted.

“Here,” Victoria says curtly, placing down two glasses of something translucent yellow in front of them.

Kyungsoo picks his up and sniffs it; it smells sweet, but not in a fruity way—more floral.

“What’s this one?”

“It’s a golden jasmine martini. Enjoy,” she half smiles, glancing at Jongin every few seconds. Kyungsoo sips it gingerly, and then hums. He should really stop doubting her; everything she gives him tastes great. Jongin is a lot less dubious, but doesn’t make any outward indication that he’s enjoying what he’s drinking.

Kyungsoo ignores the whispers going on behind him. There are only five or six people in here at the moment, other than himself, Jongin and Victoria. Tomorrow he will do an official introduction of some kind, maybe. There’ll be a lot of gossip between then and now, but he’ll set them right in the morning. He’d like to hear what they come up with anyway. He just hopes they don’t come too close to the truth.

Kyungsoo wants to ask if Jongin has somewhere to sleep tonight, but if he asks him that, it would seem like he’s concerned, and might make him obligated to find a spare room if he says no. Better to just say nothing. He takes another sip of his drink.

Six martinis and a couple of shots later, the club is open and the music is on full blast. Kyungsoo is up against a girl and grinding on her. She smells amazing, and her chest is pressing into his is driving him crazy. Her short, bleach blonde hair feels silky between his fingers, and her naughty hands are delving underneath his shirt.

He has to shout over the music to be heard, but he invites her to his room anyway, laughing drunkenly. The floor sways beneath him as they kiss messily and fall into his bed.

 

In the morning, he recalls whom her hair reminds him of, and he feels sick. He watches her leave—he can’t remember if he asked her name or not—and feels worse than death.

Groaning and grumbling to himself, he washes his face and tries to freshen up a bit, before heading downstairs. Before he can even reach the top step, he trips up on something. Squinting down at the offending trip hazard, he finds that Jongin is sleeping in the hallway. He frowns. What the hell is he doing here? He guesses he really must be desperate to be sleeping out here.

Kyungsoo debates for a moment about whether he should wake him up or not and eventually decides against it. He’ll leave him to drool all over the floor. He has nothing to say to him anyway, not until later on.

Hobbling slightly, and clinging to the bannister, he makes his way down to the kitchen, trying to ignore the blinding pain hammering inside his head.

When he enters the kitchen, only Minseok is there, which means he has no chance of his headache going away by magic. He’s stuck with it. He glares at his bulky friend’s back and sits down, massaging his temples.

“I saw you last night,” Minseok teases, “That girl was pretty cute, huh?”

“Fuck off, Minseok,”

“Alright, alright, no need to be so grumpy. Do you want some of this, or not?”

“What is it?”

“Breakfast,”

“I want some,”

Minseok serves him some bean sprout soup, and sets it down in front of him in one of the clean bowls.

“Jongin was sleeping in the hallway, I nearly tripped over him this morning,” Kyungsoo complains. Minseok almost chokes on a beansprout.

“Jongin? Jongin is here? Where?”

“Just outside my room on the first floor landing. If he hasn’t woken up by now, that is. I don’t think he has anywhere to sleep.”

“What? Why not?” Minseok speaks with his mouthful, and Kyungsoo looks at him with disdain.

Minseok rolls his eyes, swallows, and repeats himself. “Because yesterday he came and asked me for help. He’s on the run, apparently. He needs protection.”

“Who from? What did he do?” Minseok seems eager, like this is just gossip rather than something that might change the makeup of their gang permanently.

“Breakdown. And I don’t know what he did. Something bad enough for him to run to  _us_ for help,”

“Do you think he murdered someone again?”

“I. I don’t know,” Kyungsoo screws his eyes up. He hadn’t thought of that. It’s too early in the morning for this. “Just tell people  _not_ to kill him on sight, ok? I don’t think I can deal with this right now.”

“Ok, got it. Maybe you should go find Yixing.” Minseok advises. The leader only grunts in response, and continues to shovel food into his mouth. After the Yonian leaves, Kyungsoo finishes his meal quietly, and then elects to follow Minseok’s advice, and shuffles down to the infirmary, where Yixing can often be found, even when there aren’t any patients.

“Yixing?” He calls out, wincing at the loud sound. The healer doesn’t seem to be here anyway. Kyungsoo sighs in frustration and ventures further inside: perhaps he’s in another section further down. He calls out for his friend again, and Yixing startles him by popping out from around a corner.

“Fucking hell,” he exclaims, propping himself up on the wall with one hand.

“Kyungsoo? What are you doing down here?” The healer looks at him curiously. The scumbag knows exactly why he’s down here, he just wants to prolong the torture and make him ask for help.

“Please get rid of my hangover,” he says reluctantly, staring at the tiled floor so he doesn’t have to look at the bright lights reflecting off Yixing’s face. Luckily, he takes pity on him, and takes hold of his head with a fond smile, releasing the pent up pain a little for him. Kyungsoo sags against the wall. He should really stop drinking so much. If Yixing weren’t here to help out, he’d be incapacitated every day. Yixing invites him inside his room as he’s the only one who permanently sleeps down here. Jinri is snoozing on his desk, but Kyungsoo turns a blind eye to that.

“So what’s this I hear about Jongin joining Playboy, huh?” Yixing asks, hands on his hips, “I thought you weren’t going to let him join; in fact, I seem to recall you seemed pretty adamant about keeping him out.”

“The fucker can be very persuasive,”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means he’s got fucking  _Breakdown_ after him and El Dorado is not going to be happy about his reappearance but apparently he has no one else to turn to. Just us. Me. Whatever.”

“Are you sure this is a good idea? Weren’t you saying just the other day that you didn’t give a crap what happened to him? I don’t think you should bring all this extra trouble down on the rest of the gang, is all.”

“Relax. I know what I’m doing,” Kyungsoo lies.

“Right, I feel so much better,” Yixing heaves a sigh and sits down heavily on his tiny bed, rubbing his temples, “So how did it go yesterday? Anyone look like they’re going to cause trouble?”

“Nah, they all practically shat themselves at the mere sight of Minseok,”

“Well, that’s good.”

“There was this one shop where they sell those fancy little glass sculptures, you know the ones that probably cost a fortune? Minseok  _touched_ one, and the shop owner was crying. Real tears. It was great.”

“You are incorrigible.”

“Thanks,”

“Not a compliment,”

“I know,” Kyungsoo smirks, and then opens his mouth,

“Hello?” A voice that belongs to neither Yixing nor Kyungsoo breaks them up before they can start bickering. Kyungsoo stiffens up, but doesn’t say anything, not wanting to admit he could recognize Jongin’s voice from two quietly uttered syllables.

“Who’s there? Are you ok?” Yixing asks, concerned. Usually people only visit him if someone is in need of healing. His welcoming face drops when Jongin sheepishly enters, like a child interrupting a parents’ conversation. Kyungsoo stares him down.

“Minseok said you’d be down here. I need to talk to you,” Jongin says clearly, without taking his eyes off the floor. The conflict of body language and tone of voice throws Kyungsoo off.

“What,” Kyungsoo stares right through him.

“If I am part of Playboy, then I was wondering if you had any spare rooms. Just a closet would be fine, anything with a bed. I have basically nothing.” He mutters.

“You’ll owe me.” Kyungsoo warns, raising one eyebrow.

“I know,” Jongin looks up, displaying his huge dark circles, worse than they were yesterday even. Kyungsoo imagines sleeping on the floor probably wouldn’t give you a good night’s sleep. He finds himself briefly wondering where Jongin has been sleeping until now, if he really has nowhere to go.

“I’ll look into it,”  There’s a tense moment wherein Jongin looks like he’s about to say something else, but then he thinks better of it, closing off and mumbling a short “thank you”, before turning around and leaving as quickly as he came.

 _He looks a lot thinner than he used to_ , Kyungsoo notes absently.

“So we’re harboring murderers now?” Yixing smiles as if he can’t believe it, and then shakes his head.

 

When Kyungsoo gets back from doing business with a smaller peripheral gang (read: shouting at young kids and threatening to kill them if they don’t co-operate with him) he’s surprised to find Jongin sitting with a bunch of Playboy members. Chanyeol has his arm slung over his shoulder, and Jongin seems at least amused, if not happy with this development.

Minseok spots Kyungsoo and waves him over, much to his dismay. He’d wanted to go smoke by himself, in peace and quiet, but Kyungsoo guesses that's not going to happen now.

"I have work to do, you know," he lies as he sits next to Minseok.

"Sure you do," Baekhyun beams at him.

Kyungsoo scoffs in response, pulling out a cigarette and perching it between his lips. Before he can even reach for his lighter, Chanyeol moves and snaps his fingers beneath the end of the cancer stick, a spark igniting it.

"Thanks," Kyungsoo speaks, smoke escaping his lips. He looks up, locking eyes with Jongin.

"So what changed your mind about picking this guy?" Chanyeol asks, shaking Jongin by the shoulder.

"I asked him," Jongin replies before Kyungsoo can speak up. "I'm kind of in hiding so..."

"From Breakdown," Kyungsoo supplies, taking another drag from his cigarette.

Chanyeol raises his brows in surprise. "Wow, what did you do to piss them off?"

Jongin looks troubled for a moment but offers a forced grin in response. "Nothing much."

Kyungsoo is mildly curious as to what that something is, but he decides not to be nosy. He places it on the back burner in his mind, like all of the other mysteries surrounding Jongin.

"So," Baekhyun starts, "are you good at racing?"

"Used to be," Jongin shrugs, looking a little pitiful with his shoulders slumped. "I haven't raced in a couple of years though."  _Not since the murder_.

"We should bring him on races," Minseok suggests. "Well, the ones with gangs other than El Dorado, I guess."

"We aren't bringing him anywhere," Kyungsoo interjects, flicking ashes on the floor. "He's staying here. He shows his face on the street with us, and Joonmyeon will after us in a heartbeat. He probably knows by now that Jongin is here, and if not, he'll know soon." Kyungsoo sighs. "I'm not speeding up the process by waving him around like a chew toy."

He spares a look at Jongin, who stares at his feet, looking uncomfortable. He looks a little guilty, but Kyungsoo doesn't really care. It was Jongin who came to  _him_ for shelter.

Smothering his cigarette into the ashtray and lighting another, Kyungsoo speaks again. "So you need somewhere to sleep?"

The rest of the gang members look at him in shock at the unusual courtesy. Jongin looks up and nods. "I...my old place was in Breakdown territory."

"You can have my old room," Baekhyun chirps. "It's empty since I moved to Chanyeol's room."

Kyungsoo grimaces. Baekhyun's room is the closest to his own, and having Jongin that close to him doesn't settle right with him. It's like there will be a larger temptation to slip back into their old relationship if they're so close to each other. He’d been thinking of one of the vacant rooms on the top floor, with the rest of the newbies sleep.

"Something wrong?" Minseok asks.

"No," Kyungsoo answers. When he looks back to Jongin, he finds the younger male smirking at him, even though it’s just a ghost of his former playfulness, it means he hasn’t lost the spark. Kyungsoo resists the urge to blow smoke in his face.

 

Sehun wraps a bandage tightly around his hand, while Tao adjusts his wings for him. The feathers had become ruffled from the crowd a minute ago as he walked through them, but none of them had been yanked out. He has a few patches where he’s missing feathers from fighting and his recent motorcycle crash.

“You ok?” Tao asks, patting him down one final time. Sehun nods, and glares down his opponent on the other side of the cage. He has fire in his eyes after talking with his cornerman. But Sehun knows he can take him.

Tao lets his hand linger on his shoulder for a moment, before handing him his mouth guard and pushing him towards the center—the only lit part in the large room.

“Go get him,” he hears over the roar of the crowd, then the door slams behind him and it’s just Sehun and the guy he has to take down to win. He rolls his neck, bringing his arms up to cover his face, and raises himself so he’s on his toes, light on his feet. He folds his wings close to his body to reduce the size, and make it harder for anyone to grab them.

The bell rings and Sehun lunges quickly in a savage attack, kicking his opponent in the chest, wings flaring slightly for balance. He blocks him, throwing his leg off to the side but Sehun switches, kneeing him in the gut. He lets loose a barrage of fast punches aimed at his head, leaving his opponent dazed, but he recovers quickly, retaliating by grappling him by the neck and dragging him to the ground underneath him, pummeling the side of his face. Caught off guard, Sehun’s wings flap uselessly against the ground as he fights to right himself, wrapping his legs around the other man’s waist to keep him still as he wrenches the chokehold away with a grunt. Something gives suddenly, and Sehun takes the opportunity to push him away from his neck, but keeps him in range as the other man stands over him.

It’s not a good position to be in, and he receives two hard punches to the gut before he can even blink, which ache immediately. Pushing the pain aside, Sehun wriggles forward, and using his wings as leverage, grabs his ankles and  _pulls_ , toppling his opponent over so he can crawl over him and rain strikes down on him while he struggles to clinch him, holding his face and arm to his chest until Sehun can’t move. He writhes, shouting unintelligibly and bucking wildly.

The referee gets in between them and tells Sehun to back off for a moment. Breathing heavily, he gets up and walks in an arc so he’s facing him again. The momentary breather gives him a chance to listen to the crowd, shouting “hit him!”, “punch him!” and “c’mon Sehun! You got like twenty seconds!”

Shaking his head free of the pain, he waits just a few seconds longer for the ref to move out of the way, before charging at him and shoving the opponent into the wall, pinning his arms to his side and holding him there with all of his strength. The ref is shouting but it’s not to tell him to back off, so he stays there, blind and unable to hear anything other than the pained cries of his opponent as he squeezes his ribs so hard he might crack a rib.

He tries to jab the human in the side of his stomach a few times. Suddenly he collapses, legs turning to jelly, and Sehun roars, grabbing the guy’s head and kneeing him repeatedly in the face until the ref breaks them up, marking the end of the first round. If he wins the next one, he’s won the whole match.

The human is hunched over with his hands on his knees, blood dripping from his mouth and nose. Sehun looks at him with disdain, as he waits for Tao to towel him off again.

“He’s strong on the floor, keep him on his feet,” he advises, mouth right next to his ear to be heard above the audience. Sehun nods, not ready for words yet.  Tao grips his chin and forces him to look him in the eye.

“Do  _not_ let him get hold of your wings, got that?” Sehun grunts affirmative, and then pushes Tao to the side, ready to take down this asshole once and for all. He’s got this in the bag, he’s sure. He’s already won it.

The bell rings, signaling the start of the second, and hopefully final, round.

Neither of them make move, both dance around the other, darting forwards to jab their opponents aiming for the head but retreating quickly. Sehun is more aggressive than the other man, and backs him into the corner. He’s just quicker and lighter on his feet, and it works to his advantage here. He has more energy too; it seems the human has run out of stamina, bouncing sluggishly. His clean shaven head glistens under the bright lights but Sehun just sees it as a target.

The human raises his leg as if to kick him, and Sehun dodges out of the way, but the motion stops halfway through. Analyzing the way the human moves, in his subconscious, Sehun decides that the best way to attack is to circle round a little and come at him from an angle, so he sidesteps and strikes him several times in succession before retreating.

He keeps doing this—religiously breaking down his defenses, weakening his barriers until he’s not properly protecting himself anymore, then slams his fist into the man’s face, right between his hands. The man falls backwards, blindsided, collapsing on the floor with a barely audible thud on the padded floor.

Victory floods him as he raises his hands into the air, panting. Shouting hoarsely, he punches the air to rile up the crowd. They cheer for him and Sehun swears this is what he  _lives_ for—the adoration of the crowd.

He takes out his mouth guard and spits on the ground, just before Tao reaches him, throwing a towel over his shoulders and dabbing his face dry with another, chattering animatedly about how great he was back there.

He jumps up and down a few times and lands a couple of punches on an imaginary target, shaking himself out, partly to rid himself of the buildup of acid in his muscles that will cause cramp, and partly (the bigger part, if he’s honest) to show off for the audience again. From the corner of his eye, he sees medics swarm around the loser, shining lights in his eyes and scanning him with devices he doesn’t understand.

“You did it!” Tao exclaims happily, gushing about how on form he is today. Sehun smiles brightly at him, ignoring everyone else in the room for a moment. He would never have made it the far if not for his best friend. Tao embraces him, squeezing him tight even though he’s drenched in sweat, which he usually complains about. It’s only the quarter final, why is he so happy? He laughs anyway, hugging him back and spinning him around until he yells at him to stop.

“You have to win the next one, ok? I’m going to push you until next week, and you’re gonna  _win_. You are not leaving this without a trophy, got that?”

“Got it,” Sehun shakes his head in exasperation. You’d think Tao was the one competing with the way he was going on about trophies and prizes. He and Tao are broken apart by the ref, who shakes his hand, and congratulates him on winning. To show good sportsmanship—even in a grungy hole in the wall cage like this—he says thank you to his opponent.

After that, Tao and his other cornermen usher him outside and drive him back to headquarters, so they can privately deal with any medical issues. Most winners would stay behind and drink themselves silly after a match, but Sehun has obligations.

El Dorado’s base is situated underground, below a high class hotel. One with walls that are sensitive to the client’s needs, and panels in the windows which filter out unwanted light and noise. It’s all very fancy, and Sehun has only actually been inside a guest room a handful of times, as the members aren’t often allowed to go up there.

Sehun is almost shoved out of the car, and his team bustle him around the side of the building, and through the back door which leads to the underground chambers, which El Dorado members are supposed to use, and down to the infirmary.

“Ahh,” he sighs, reclining back onto one of the beds there. The jitters from the adrenaline rush are almost all gone now, and the bed is so soft, he could just fall asleep...right now...

“We still need to get you properly checked over, don’t get too comfy,” Tao warns him, one hand on his knee in agitated concern. Even though he’d won, he’d been smacked around pretty bad too, especially in the first round.

“Yeah, sure,” he mumbles, not listening. He closes his eyes and doesn’t try very hard to stay awake. Tao pinches his thigh.

“Ow!”

“I told you not to get comfy,” he smirks felinely. Sehun scoffs, but doesn’t try to snooze anymore, waiting for the doctor to come out of his office and tend to him. Luckily, the doctor, a round woman with over-bleached hair, arrives quickly, with a general health scanner and some flesh knitting fluid- not as effective as a healer, but still does the job, if not as neatly—and with more pain.

“You don’t look too bad today, Sehun, this shouldn’t take too long.” She teases, pinning his hair back with her hand so she can examine his face more closely, checking for concussions and other problems.

“Yeah, I won pretty good,”

“I’m glad.” She dabs his face with a ball of cotton wool soaked in fleshknitter and he hisses as it stings. “Hold still,” she scolds him, “there! Is there anywhere else that hurts?”

“No, not really,” Sehun replies, flexing his muscles to make sure.

“Good. You don’t have a concussion, and you haven’t even got many bruises this time. I say you should keep up the progress,” she winks at him, and pats his head. She can get away with it because she’s older, but Sehun glares at her playfully anyway.

“You’re good, but don’t move too much for a while, it might upset the fleshknitter, ok? Stay here for a bit longer,” he nods complacently. “I’m sure your boyfriend will tell you when it’s ok to go.”

“He’s not my boyfriend!” He calls after her.

Now he can finally relax a little. Well, if he ignores the stinging on his forehead. He hums to himself, a song from his childhood, before he was found by Luhan. No one really knows what he is exactly, but he’s definitely not human. His wings protrude directly from his shoulder blades, and there are no signs of scarring so they weren’t grafted onto him. He wriggles a little, to get more comfortable with them underneath him, continuing to hum his song. He notes the way Tao’s face slowly changes from fond to pensive, and finally worried.

“What’s up?”

“I heard—Did you hear about Playboy?”

“No? What did they do this time?” Sehun asks, tired. If it’s about Kyungsoo and his sleazy gang, then it can’t be good news. Tao bites his lip, eyebrows furrowed so far they cast shadows over his best friend’s eyes. Tao is not known for being serious. Something clenches inside him, and he braces himself for whatever he’s about to say.

“Well. People are saying that—that Jongin’s come back.”

“What?” Sehun breathes, not able to believe his ears. He stares blankly. Jongin can’t be back. There’s no way he would come back after doing what he did. He  _killed_ their surrogate parents, sliced them up into pieces and splattered blood all over the walls. Sehun’s stomach heaves at the memory- he’d been one of the first to see what was left of his closest family. He’d shielded Tao’s eyes from the sight, but it was too late. They’d cried until morning, and he still has nightmares occasionally.

“I don’t know if it’s true.” Tao tries to placate him.

“It probably is,” he grits out, grasping the bedsheets to suppress his building rage.

And if he is, he’s going to kill him.

 

The news of Jongin’s return eventually reaches Joonmyeon’s ears, and he nearly blows a gasket when he finds out. Irene has to calm him down and convince him that destroying all the bikes he’s been working on around the garage is  _not_ a good idea.

How dare that murderous bastard show his face around here again? And begging that scumbag  _Kyungsoo_ for help, no less? He can hardly comprehend it!

He fumes almost silently as he waits for Jongdae and the others to show up, so they can make some plans.  _Something_ needs to be done about this mess, and someone needs to hold Joonmyeon back from storming right over to their club and taking care of it himself. He doesn’t need this weighing him down along with the stress of El Dorado’s many failures to Playboy.

“What’s up, boss?” Jongdae takes one look at Joonmyeon and halts mid-step. He’s seen him angry before, but not  _this_ angry.

“Sit down, I don’t want to repeat myself,” he snarls. Jongdae does as he’s told, tentatively perching on the edge of his seat like something is going to explode. And it might well do, if Joonmyeon has something to do with it. The atmosphere of the small underground room grows into an oppressive, tangible entity as more people gather, pressing down on those that enter. Joonmyeon sees that a lot of them look confused. That won’t be for long though.

“Is there anyone else yet to come?” He asks, a little calmer now, but only a little.

“Just Sehun and Tao,”

“Of course it would be them,” he softens a little, remembering how they were as kids, looking up to Kris and Luhan. Jongin did too, come to think of it, but Sehun and Tao didn’t grow up to brutally murder anyone.

The two stragglers burst through the door one after the other, looking like they’ve just run all the way here.

“We’re sorry—!”

“We didn’t hear about this until—!”

“Like five minutes ago!”

They speak over each other but somehow still manage to be coherent in their excuses, until Joonmyeon waves his hand to tell them to sit down and shut up. They obey him instantly, finally catching on to the tension in the room.

“Jongin is back,” he begins, not bothering with flowery language, “and we need to do something about it. He can’t hide from us forever.”

 

Life feels mellow without races to win, and a week flies by without Kyungsoo really acknowledging its passing. He rarely sees Jongin around, and he can’t tell whether that’s because he’s out doing gang work all the time or because Jongin is avoiding him. He doesn’t even see him in the evenings, so he probably teleports inside his new room or something. He doesn’t dwell on it. Kyungsoo doesn’t need to know what he’s up to.

There had only been a few members who had been opposed to his joining, and they’d quickly shut up about their feelings, after Kyungsoo made it clear that he was here to stay for a while.

Chanyeol and Baekhyun seem to like him, like Wendy said. And from the brief encounters they have, Kyungsoo doesn’t really get the impression of _cold blooded murderer_  from him, but he guesses that people who kill like that would be pretty good at hiding it.

He’s just waiting for some kind of threat or angry message from Joonmyeon about it.  _Any day now_ , he thinks.

But business is going well, collecting the money from Exodus and a few of the other lucrative retail areas in the city in their territory had been easy this month, so Kyungsoo was glad of that. The club is raking it in too, gaining more and more popularity lately. Kyungsoo wonders if they should do something special to celebrate, as they certainly have the money. But then a party would attract attention from people he doesn’t want snooping around in his business. Sighing, he gets up from his tiny cluttered desk, and decides to go for a walk. All the data and numbers are making his head spin.

As he exits the back door on the ground floor, he pats down his jacket in search of his cigarettes, and lighter. After the first drag, the familiar light headed, relaxed feeling takes over, and he leans back against the wall.

Someone coughs beside him.

“Jongin?”  Kyungsoo scowls. The dark skinned man is crouching nearby, inconspicuously. The fact that he didn’t hear him enter means that he was here first.

“Kyungsoo,” he stands up, steps a little closer and nods in greeting. This time Kyungsoo gives in to the urge to blow smoke on him, and smiles at Jongin’s restraint. The old Jongin would have called him an asshole or playfully smacked him for that.

“What are you doing out here?” The leather clad leader asks.

“I could ask you the same thing.” Jongin replies. Kyungsoo waves his cigarette at him in response.

“I was just. Thinking.” Jongin looks down, pensive.

"About what?" Kyungsoo murmurs as he exhales smoke and watches it dance in the air in gray wisps.

"I don't know," he sighs, "just...the past, I guess."

"How you became a stone-cold killer and got kicked out of Transformer?" Kyungsoo deadpans.

Jongin is silent after that, and the older man figures he might have hurt his feelings. He feels a little bad as Jongin probably has been reminded about it constantly. Then again, he killed them, so who cares if he feels bad about it?

Jongin opens his mouth as if he has to force the words out. "I...I didn't do it, Kyungsoo."

The raven-haired man pauses as he brings the cigarette to his lips, sending Jongin a surprised look. Of all things for Jongin to say, he certainly didn't expect that. Shaking his head, Kyungsoo snorts in disbelief. "Two years and  _now_ you decide to plead innocent. Who do you think you’re fooling?"

"It's true!" Jongin says, stepping up to the shorter male, shoes sloshing in the slush-like puddles that littered the alleyway. "Think about it. That night, I was with  _you_."

Those words echo in his head as the realization dawns upon him. Kyungsoo's cigarette falls from his lips, a little  _splish_  sounding as it drops into the icy puddle.

Jongin is right. They were together that night; it was the last night he ever saw him. With wide eyes, Kyungsoo looks at Jongin and sees him in a different light.

"What time?" he asks. "What time were they killed?"

"Around 1 AM," Jongin answers. "They...They were found at 2 AM. I was with you during that whole time. It couldn't have been me."

"That's why you couldn't defend yourself," Kyungsoo realizes aloud, "because you were with me."

Jongin nods, a slight pained look on his features as if he was reliving a painful experience. "No matter what I said, they wouldn't believe me. None of them."

"Why not?"

"I was the last one to show up; not to mention, I argued with Kris and Luhan before I went to meet you. It wasn't anything to kill them over though, but we did raise our voices at one point," he explains, "the way they were killed too. I..." Jongin shivers.

"It's something you can do, right?" Kyungsoo raises a brow. Teleportation magic is risky in a way that only taking one part of a person can rip them apart in the process. It's a dangerous weapon, and it's another great ability under Jongin's belt.

"Yeah, but I never used it on  _people_ ," he mumbles. He looks distraught.

Kyungsoo is quiet, fingers pressed to his lips in thought. His dark eyebrows furrow as he puts the pieces together.

"If it wasn't you...I think someone tried to frame you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bookmarks, comments, and kudos are appreciated!


	4. 004

Flanked by Chanyeol, Baekhyun and Minseok, Kyungsoo drives slowly through the middle of Exodus. He forbade Jongin from coming, but he’s probably flitting around somewhere in the shadows like always. He knows people have heard rumors about his return, but he didn’t want to confirm anything to anyone outside of Playboy until he was ready, which probably meant never, unless he was forced into it.

He felt like patrolling today so everyone around knew with no room for doubt who was in charge right now. Just in case anyone hadn’t got the memo. People ducked their heads as they cruised by, hiding their faces and shrinking into the smallest space they could occupy so as not to attract unwanted attention.

Head held high behind his mask, Kyungsoo basks in it. Maybe it’s not adoration, but it is attention and he is in control.

There’s a commotion a little way down the road, the people of Ordure giving a certain area a wide berth. He squints to see what it is, waiting for his mask to help him focus on what’s going on over there and he can feel his frustration level rising when he spots Joonmyeon, surrounded by a bunch of El Dorado members sitting on their bikes looking like they’re staging a fucking protest. He rolls his eyes,

“C’mon, guys, looks like we’ve got ourselves an asshole to take care of,” he sighs. This has really ruined his good mood. Mentally preparing himself for an argument at the bare minimum, Kyungsoo leads his small group further along the road, going at his own pace, while calling back to the club for back up. This is almost certainly going to end in a fight no matter what he might say to quell him, so he might as well fan the flames.

As he draws nearer, he raises his mask,

“Joonmyeon,” Kyungsoo calls, flinging his arms wide as if graciously receiving a guest, “I don’t remember inviting you into my territory.” He narrows his eyes, assessing his reason for being here. The rival boss seems relaxed only on the surface, the closer he looks, the more tension he notices.

“Kyungsoo.” he greets, rising to his feet and stepping closer, but leaving a distinct gap between them. It might as well be a chasm.

“Get off my turf, fuckhead,” Kyungsoo snarls, not willing to pretend anymore.

“Hand over the blood traitor, scum,” Joonmyeon growls back, just as eager to end the false niceties. Kyungsoo laughs,

“Blood traitor? That’s a bit archaic don’t you think? It’s The 31st century, after all, get with the times, grandad,” He scoffs at him, without actually denying him outright, and it seems as though that was a mistake, as Joonmyeon hones in on his deflection with malicious glee,

“So you  _do_ have him,” he sneers. His cronies, the one with the wispy scars and the girl Kyungsoo is pretty sure runs faster than sound, stand behind him staring at him with equal disdain. Kyungsoo thinks fast, as he wants to simultaneously protect Jongin and piss off Joonmyeon. He still has no real evidence other than Jongin’s word that he isn’t the murder of Kris and Luhan, none that he is willing to make public at least, so he can’t wave him under Joonmyeon’s nose. He can’t admit to protecting him.

“And you can prove that, can’t you?” Kyungsoo raises an imperious eyebrow at him. “Yeah, didn’t think so. I’ll give you one last warning before things start getting messy: Get. Off. Our. Turf.”

“I’m not leaving until that murdering trash is dead,” Joonmyeon announces, not seeming to care that Kyungsoo is a volcano waiting to erupt.

“I gave him a warning, didn’t I?” He turns to Minseok.

“You did, boss,” he grins as he bears down on the other gang members, who are starting to look a little disconcerted now. Minseok cracks his knuckles, and Chanyeol woops, hands already flaming. Kyungsoo raises one hand in front of him and jerks it upwards unexpectedly, giving Joonmyeon little time to dodge as a cube of earth is suddenly hurtling at his face. He dives to the ground, and at the same time a myriad of El Dorado members spill from every nook and cranny of the area, having been hiding within the crowd.

Swirls of fire rush past Kyungsoo’s side, close enough to singe his jacket, but he knows Chanyeol is a little temperamental so he doesn’t take offense. He can no longer see the fast girl, so he knows he needs to watch out for her: she could stab him a hundred times before he even realized what was going on.

Joonmyeon is hunkered down with the lightning caster, using his bike as cover. Kyungsoo isn’t sure what they’re doing, but whatever it is, it can’t bode well for the rest of them, so evading the screaming people who are running around them, terrified of the fighting, he makes his way closer. Joonmyeon is shouting at the other man, what was his name...Jonghae? Jong- _something_ , anyway, who is standing with his fingertips pointing to the sky, face strained and muscles taut.

Kyungsoo freezes and looks towards the rapidly darkening clouds. A thin fork of white lightening crackles through the center, illuminating it from within, accompanied by thunder. It rolls through him, unsettling and primeval. He’s going to make it rain, so that Joonmyeon has more water to work with, thus making him a greater threat. Normally Joonmyeon is pretty useless, but now Kyungsoo is worried.

He looks around him to check that everyone is still ok - Chanyeol is brutally burning some poor girl until her bones show through her skin, and Baekhyun is holding her down as she struggles, screaming and writhing. Minseok is fighting four at once, using only his brute strength to fend off his adversaries. A good number of El Dorado members are forming pairs and groups to make them stronger, their magic matching well, like Baekhyun and Chanyeol.

They’re at a disadvantage, he realizes, the backup is going to take a little while to arrive and they’re severely outnumbered. But he’s been outnumbered before, so he rolls his shoulders forward and plants his feet safely in the ground, getting in touch with his base and ignoring the first spatters of raindrops on his face.

The asphalt is just like a crusty surface, when you know what’s underneath: remnants of ancient cities buried under clay and mud, but Kyungsoo doesn’t give a shit as he rips it to pieces, tearing the road into shards that stick out of the ground and raising a podium for himself.

He stares down at the beginnings of what promises to be a real street brawl, like back when his father was in charge, and cracks his knuckles, tilting the ground underneath him and sliding down the rubble into the fray, pelting nearby people with tiny rocks as fast as bullets.

 

The smell of burning flesh fills Chanyeol’s nostrils even after he removes his hands from the limp body in front of him, and it makes his mouth water. He shakes his hands free of the fire and blows on them—they’re still glowing with heat under his skin, the bones so hot that they would melt were he human. Baekhyun tosses the girl to the ground carelessly and looks around for their next victim. No one seems to want to take them on for some reason, Chanyeol can’t fathom why.

A flash of lightening startles him, and when he looks up the embers in his eyes dim. A storm is coming. Rain weakens his firepower. He shares a glance with Baekhyun, who nods, knowing exactly what he’s thinking immediately: it’s best to cause as much destruction as possible while they still have the chance.

Agreeing on a target, a thickset man with tattoos encircling his head, they clasp one hand together, forging a bond through which they can share magic.

They make a good team, Kyungsoo has said it himself, Chanyeol is hot and Baekhyun makes the heat even more intense, hot enough to incinerate people instantly. All they would have to do to win is boil the asphalt, it wouldn’t be too hard, but that isn’t flamboyant enough, and besides it wouldn’t help the people in Playboy much either, wherever they are. No, they have to go with live flames, a swirling vortex of them, dancing and igniting everything they touch.

The gathering darkness above them is getting to Baekhyun, Chanyeol can tell, so he pushes all the effort he has into sparking a tornado and uses dramatic swirling motions and harsh cries to get it going into something bigger. He can feel Baekhyun’s light magic coursing through him, and he pushes that into his vortex too, keeping an eye on the tattooed man who is backing away from his creation, the orange light illuminating his terror.

Each raindrop saps at Chanyeol’s power, and the gathering puddles are making it even worse. He communicates to his partner with a squeeze of his hand, and Baekhyun nods, helping him push the spiraling funnel of fire towards the escaping man. With a guttural scream that is cut off abruptly, the man is sucked inside, and probably died instantly, but Chanyeol wouldn’t know. He’s too busy concentrating on not letting it die out - It’s shrinking before his very eyes, parts of it flickering because of the torrential rain. He’s used to being the most powerful magic user on the field, so his eyes are wide with panic at how weak this rain is making him. It must be abnormal rain; it’s not usually  _this_ bad when it’s wet.

Fury ignites his senses - he can’t go out only having taken care of one enemy! Another burst of energy flows through him from Baekhyun, and he struggles to redirect the maelstrom towards another El Dorado member, screaming through the effort, veins bulging in his neck. Baekhyun might be screaming too, but he can’t hear them over the whooshing sound of their powers combined, crackling through the storm.

Someone charges at him from the left, trying for the element of surprise, and it almost works—except Baekhyun spotted her first, and spun them around, lashing out at his would-be-attacker. The woman was coming at him with fingers sharpened with shards of ice that would have sliced him clean open. Baekhyun kicks her aside, fingers still entwined with his, and remains in sentry mode, eye darting to and fro searching for potential threats.

It’s always like this: while Chanyeol is strong he is also weak. Baekhyun is his eyes and ears while he manipulates fires the size of houses, and if it weren’t for them he’d have died a long time ago.

“Thanks,” he shouts,

“Focus!” Baekhyun reprimands, shaking their hands a little to remind him. In his inattention, his fire vortex has shrunk to two thirds the size it was before, and is swerving out of control, veering towards a shop filled with innocent bystanders. Kyungsoo will yell at him if he hurts civilians again, and he doesn’t want to go through that again, so using his last threads of magic before they drain away, he heaves it away and towards the El Dorado leader.

Joonmyeon screams, and his sidekick, Jongdae, grabs his arm and pulls him for cover just as the burning tornado reaches them. They get away with singed clothing, and minor burns.

Chanyeol collapses, his vortex sputtering to a halt then spewing liquid flames over the surrounding area and setting the tarmac aflame so there’s patches of molten steaming rock. He sinks to his knees, dizzy, pulling Baekhyun down with him.

“Chanyeol!” Baekhyun pushes their face into his vision, but he’s seeing double now, can’t make his eyes go where he wants them to. A sharp pain stings his cheek where Baekhyun slaps him, bringing him halfway back to reality.

Unsteady, he gets to his feet with Baekhyun’s help and wobbles to relative safety. His hair is soaked and sticking to his forehead, just like his partner’s, and his clothes are sodden too. He hates rain, hates water and  _hates_ being wet. His hands are shaking as Baekhyun takes hold of them, their face is silhouetted from the dying fire behind them.

“You ok?” they ask, concern spilling over their features.

“Yeah,”

 

The moment Kyungsoo begins to attack, the rest of the gang follows—including Krystal, who hops off of her bike, pulling off her mask. She gives a disgusted look to the men who flock to her to attack, and a wave of radiation flows from her, a small enough dose to give anyone near nausea and dizziness just long enough so she can tie up her long blonde hair. The moment she’s done, she beats the dizzy El Dorado members to the ground, using her long legs and flexibility to deliver swift kicks to the head, knocking them cleanly to the ground. She spins around to give the person behind her a roundhouse kick, and at the last second she realizes it’s only Jinri, Yixing’s girlfriend, pulling up short and brushing a few stray hairs out of her face.

“I didn’t even know you were on patrol today,” Krystal raises a brow at the brunette.

“Kyungsoo asked me to fill in for someone else,” Jinri shrugs before she stops and stills, sending a glare to something behind Krystal.

The other woman turns to see two well-known female members of El Dorado approaching them: Irene and Luna. Krystal folds her arms across her chest as the two stop in front of them. She’s faced off against Luna before but never Irene. In fact, she’s only seen Irene from a distance—a beautiful nymph who entrances everyone she passes, even having caught the gaze of Joonmyeon. Krystal isn’t jealous or envious. Sure, she’s beautiful, but Krystal has her own admirers. Same goes for Jinri.

The two Playboy members exchange glances, motioning to either of the girls in front of them. Jinri goes for Luna, Krystal- the more experienced fighter- can fight against Irene, since they aren’t sure what she could possibly have up her sleeve. And once their minds are made up, they lunge.

Krystal instantly goes for a punch, her leather-clad fist hurtling straight for Irene’s pretty face. The older woman easily blocks her with one manicured hand, nails curling around her knuckles before a knee presses into her gut, knocking the wind from her. Groaning, she grits her teeth and reaches up to dig a hand in Irene’s perfectly curled blonde hair, yanking her down to the ground. Yeah, it’s a dirty move, but there are no rules in gang fights, especially where Playboy is concerned.

While Krystal and Irene are engaged in a more physical fight, Jinri and Luna battle it out in more of a magical way. Jinri dodges as Luna lifts her arms, sending rubble and torn up asphalt her way, using half trained telekinesis to throw debris at her target. Anything that nears Jinri in an inconveniencing way has her opening her mouth to send out a shriek that has the object bursting into pieces and everyone around holding their ears. And when she sees and opening, she dives towards the other woman, aiming a kick at her torso. The blue-haired girl is flexible and quick, however, and has Jinri faltering and stumbling for a moment.

When she turns, a torn up road sign flies into Luna’s hand like a magnet, and with a swing, Luna uses the sign to knock Jinri to the ground. Her head rings as she hits the asphalt, but Luna doesn’t stop there. Digging her knee into Jinri’s stomach, the brunette only has time to watch before the El Dorado member serves a final hit with her fist, colliding harshly with her jaw. Blood spills in her mouth as her teeth cut into her cheek, and Jinri nearly chokes at the metallic taste. Her blurred vision registers a smile curving onto Luna’s lips.

“Guess it’s lights out for you, bitch,” she snickers, pulling back her arm for another punch.

But she is rudely interrupted when a hand suddenly latches in her cobalt hair and drags her back painfully. Luna only has seconds to look at her attacker before her head is being bashed into the ground. Her foggy eyes catch sight of black boots with pointed heels and long raven hair.

Luna’s hair is released only for those boots to slam into her gut over and over until she’s spitting blood and crying out as the stiletto heel punctures her stomach. Black spots soon dot her vision, eyes rolling back in her head from the pain. Her attacker notices and relents their attack.

“I don’t really believe in this fight-to-death shit,” a female voice scoffs, a definite accent added to her Korean, “so I’ll let you go.”

“S-Song...Qian…”

“It’s Victoria to you,  _bitch_ ,” she smirks, and Luna passes out to the sound of heels clicking against the pavement.

Krystal gasps and sputters for breath as Irene’s perfectly manicured nails dig into her throat, nimble but strong hands cutting off her oxygen supply. She is pressed against the opaque glass of a clothing store window, surprised by Irene’s flexibility and agility as the older woman quickly gains the upper hand on Krystal. The biggest shocker is how Irene remains perfectly unscathed. Krystal remembers clawing at her face and remembers punching her hard over and over until her nose broke and bled. But Irene’s face is as perfectly angelic as it was before the fight began, the only evidence being the blood on her blouse that had dripped from her nose.

The Playboy member grabs at Irene’s hands and kicks, choking for breath. She locks eyes with her impassive attacker, wanting nothing more than to spit in her porcelain face. And when she kicks Irene in the stomach, the woman loses her grip momentarily before her eyebrows furrow. Their eyes meet again, and a warm, sluggish feeling flows through Krystal’s veins like honey.

She stops fighting - Irene is the most beautiful woman she’s ever seen in her entire life, how could she have wanted to hurt such a perfect creature? Even for a second? A whine escapes her trapped throat when the blonde leans forward to brush their noses together, her tempting, glossed lips inches from Krystal’s. She cranes her head forward, desperate to feel them against her own, and is granted her wish. A sudden burst of lust rushes through her, and Krystal can’t get enough of her, not minding about the fact that Irene’s hands are holding her back, that’s irrelevant now. All she wants is more of Irene, to feel her against her body and kiss her deeper and-

Thunder abruptly shatters the artificial silence, and wet splashes land on her face, momentarily blinding her, and before she realizes it Krystal can barely see a foot in front of her for all the raindrops cascading from the sky.

“Fuck,” Irene curses, letting go of her hold on her and fingers slipping from their grip around her neck. Krystal gags, stomach contracting violently, and has to lean against the wall lest she collapse on the ground like some damsel. She thought she’d be safe from sexual assault if she was in a gang, but apparently that was not the case. She wipes her mouth,

“You sick, twisted, bitch,” she snarls, lunging for her and driving her fingernails into her face. She aims for her eyes, forgetting all her martial arts knowledge as this descends into pure revolted rage. How dare she? How  _dare_ she manipulate her feelings like that, make her want to do— _that_ without her consent?

Incoherent, she screams as she pummels her face into the ground, yanking at her lank hair to tear it from her skull.

It’s only when Victoria pulls her arm away that she realizes that the woman is already unconscious, blood pooling around her like a halo she doesn’t deserve. Victoria helps her up to her feet, and holds her close, telling her that it’s ok, it’s over now. She doesn’t believe it, but it’s nice to hear when she’s shaking like a leaf.

“I don’t know what the  _fuck_ that Joonmyeon was thinking when he picked her up. Kris would never have let someone like her into Transformer,” Victoria mutters, stroking Krystal’s back.

 

Minseok is not fast. In fact he’s pretty slow when it comes to fighting, and most people think it is a weakness. It is sort of true, he supposes, but on the other hand brute strength has kind of made up for it, in the long run. And just because he moves slowly, doesn’t mean he thinks slowly too, as his opponents learn quickly.

Just as he’s heaving a skinny acid producer over his shoulder, lighting illuminates the road enough for him to see the blood spatter as his head hits a spike in the paved ground, caused by Kyungsoo earlier on. He cringes, not having meant to kill him, but it’s too late to do anything about it now. He brushes his hands clean on his shirt and turns around slowly, looking out for his gang-mates.

Kyungsoo is currently engaging six or seven individuals in a spectacular battle- something that would probably very popular if he were to film it, he has a dramatic flair to say the least. Chanyeol and Baekhyun are back to back, using subdued but still garish attacks, since the rain is pouring over them. Neither of the two are very proficient at hand to hand, they rely a lot on their powers, so Minseok worries about them. At the moment they seem to have everything covered however, so he leaves them be. They’re almost as prideful as Kyungsoo, and wouldn’t forgive him if he swept in like a knight in shining armor when they didn’t need him to.

Krystal and Victoria are huddled together next to what looks like a corpse, which is alarming, but only because Krystal looks like she’s crying. He’s never seen her cry before, the sight is chilling. More members of Playboy flood the area, soaked to the bone already but that’s irrelevant. Flashes and booms shake the earth beneath him, and just as he makes the executive decision to go to Krystal, he finds his path blocked by two teenagers.

“Going somewhere?” The one with wings asks smugly, knees bent in a standard ready position, on foot slightly in front of the other. The other guy, clad all in gothic studded leather and wearing more piercings than he can count, stands just behind him but no less ready to fight. Minseok cracks his knuckles,

“This can be either easy, or hard, your choice,” he growls, storing the previous aches and pains from earlier away, and sinking into a low stance of his own. The two kids send each other a quick derisive glance, making snap judgements. So this is how it’s going to be, Minseok thinks, and prepares himself for attack.

Judging by how they’re both bouncing lightly on their feet, Minseok suspects that they’ll both try to surprise him with fast movements. Too bad for them he’s used to these kinds of tactics.

The first one to move is the dark guy, Tao, shouting harshly and coming for him with a series of rotating swipes that have Minseok backtracking a bit- maybe he shouldn’t have been so fast to categorize them. But still, he waits. Maybe they’ll tire themselves out a bit while they dance around him like this. Analyzing the way they work together, he guesses they must fight as a pair, taking it in turns to beat their victims down. And he is proven right when the guy with wings, who he is pretty sure is called Sehun, charges at him next, a flurry of feet and wings.

A sharp impact on his hand sends pain fizzling down his arm and he winces, wishing this were just a sparring session with Kyungsoo so he could call timeout. But even then Kyungsoo would tell him to suck it up, in less kind words than those of course.

As he’d suspected, they take it in turns to attack, driving him in the opposite direction to where he had been heading. Concerned that they’re herding him into a trap, he glances over his shoulder, and in that brief moment of weakness they get through his guard, landing a strike on his jaw and snapping his head back. His body follows after, and he slams onto the ground painfully, his weight working against him.

Lying on the ground in the pouring rain, he smiles to himself. They probably think they’ve won: not even close. Minseok is like a tank, and can keep getting up and pushing on no matter how many times he’s knocked over. Carefully, he gets up and lowers himself back into his fighting stance, a more aggressive one than before. He’s not playing anymore.

The two guys share a worried look, before slipping back into their former routine. He knows what to wait for, he’s learnt their strategy now, so he just needs to play into it, predict what’s coming and use it to his advantage.

Sehun is first this time, using some kind of unspoken promise, and he’s like a goddamn whirlwind. Faster than anything Minseok has faced before, and he struggles to block his strikes, and is still caught on his shoulder despite attempting to dodge. But he’s ready for it when Tao comes at him, and catches onto his calf, throwing him off balance with a flick of his wrist. He trips, and with a yelp he falls onto the floor,

“Tao!” The other kid shouts, confirming Minseok’s suspicions. Wasting no time, the icemaker freezes Tao’s foot to the wet ground, encasing him in frostbite inducing shackles, then prepares for the next attack now that the first of them is immobilized.

Looking up, Minseok finds that the other kid isn’t here anymore. Unsettled, he looks all around him, but he doesn’t seem to have run away. Still, he suspects something is not right with this situation, so he keeps an eye out for danger while he makes sure the time controller isn’t going anywhere fast, freezing him solid all the way up his legs, and then moving onto his hand.

Something falls from the sky, knocking him on his ass again, and he’s starting to feel the aches from impending bruises, but he’s not out yet.

He tilts his head up just in time to see a silhouette diving for him, only this time he has enough time to roll out of the way and the winged person collides with the ground, leaving Minseok the opportunity to trap him, grabbing the feathers and freezing them into hardened blocks of ice that should be impossible to fly with. The boy shrieks, clawing at the frozen feathers futilely.

Using the distraction, Minseok wraps his arms around his waist and suplexes him, throwing him over his shoulder so they both hit the asphalt, but Sehun hits it harder. As the winged creature moans on the ground, face scrunched up in pain, Minseok gets to his feet and makes fast work of freezing him to the ground, then thinks better of it and knocks him out with a precise blow to his temple. Once they’re secure, he makes his way towards Krystal.

 

When the rain begins to pour from the cloudy sky, Joonmyeon lets out a grin of both success and relief. It’s difficult for the two of them to contribute enough power to create a storm, especially one this heavy and powerful. The streets are practically drowning in puddles within seconds, but it didn’t break up the fighting spirit of El Dorado. But if he can at least get Kyungsoo’s strongest players out, specifically the one with the light magic and the other with the fire magic, that will give El Dorado the advantage the gang desperately needs.

“It worked, Boss!” Jongdae cheers gleefully from next to him, hair plastered to his forehead from the rain and exposing the curved lightning scars on his face.

“Good job, Jongdae,” he replies, patting the younger man on the shoulder before focusing his eyes back on the many brawling gang members. It’s then that his eyes catch on a flash of blonde hair within the second of lightning illuminating the scene. Joonmyeon’s eyes go wide with horror as he witnesses a woman from Playboy slamming his beautiful Irene into the pavement over and over again, ripping out her perfect golden hair in the process. Fury courses through his veins and Joonmyeon dashes over to her rescue only to be tugged back by a hand on his shoulder.

“We have to focus on Kyungsoo! Irene can handle herself!” Jongdae scolds and Joonmyeon knows he’s right. Irene doesn’t look too good, though, but he forces himself to look away from the nymph he’s besotted with and instead to the other gang leader who’s busy basically beating El Dorado members to a pulp. Again.

He watches Jongdae leave to go help out Joy and Seulgi before stalking towards Kyungsoo. His fists clench at his sides, and the anxiety builds in his chest. He can’t let this become another loss, especially with Jongin on the line. Kris and Luhan deserve justice, and this is his only way to achieve it for them. With Kyungsoo out of the way, Jongin is unprotected.

Joonmyeon stops and watches Kyungsoo, who’s too preoccupied to notice him approaching, waiting for an opening for him to strike and not hit a member of his own gang. He raises his hands, fingers soft and flowing like the water that comes with them, and swirls a thick stream around him so it encircles him like Saturn’s ring.

The El Dorado member, a young one called Yuta spots him and ducks, leaving Kyungsoo open and confused. Before the scumbag can even turn around, Joonmyeon is circling his arms, throwing high pressure blades of water at him, using the element of surprise to his advantage. Only one hits him, reflexes faster than he’d anticipated, but Joonmyeon isn’t done yet.

Crying out with each harsh burst of motion, he sends jets towards Kyungsoo who ducks and rolls away from the blasts, already bleeding from a shallow gash in his shoulder. He stamps his foot, raising another pillar of earth beneath him, travelling forward on it like a landslide. Joonmyeon swears loudly—he’s out of range now, but not for long: he sprints up the unstable earth, and stands at the top.

This works to his advantage, now he is above Kyungsoo and can rain jets down on him with ease. He laughs at how stupid Kyungsoo was to give him this, keeping a steady trail of water close by. Still running, Kyungsoo looks actually  _afraid_ , and the growing terror on his face as he bleeds from several lacerations is euphoric. He keeps shooting at him, now is not the time to think, or he will get away.

His target darts around people, making it harder for Joonmyeon to get an accurate hit, and raises stone barriers for protection but this is Joonmyeon’s turf now, he has the power and he uses it to break down everything Kyungsoo builds, smashing the rocks down like they’re nothing.

The Playboy leader leaps over some rubble, but times it wrong. Joonmyeon sends a jettison straight to his stomach and Kyungsoo screams, spiraling and collapsing in a bloody heap on the ground. He tries to sit up, but the pain is obviously too much for him, and he falls back, panting and crying out at every tiny movement.

The second he’s down, Joonmyeon starts to run. He wants to deliver the final blow up close.

Kyungsoo shudders from the pain in his gut. The earth comforts him from beneath the asphalt like a worried mother but the lacerations like huge paper cuts make it difficult for him to move any limb. But he doesn’t give up, hands clawing to pick up tiny pieces of rubble and hurl them in Joonmyeon’s direction as the older human approaches. It’s pointless, but he can’t give up. And when he senses the impending finishing blow, Kyungsoo moves his stinging arms to block his face.

But instead of being doused in water or sliced once more, the Playboy leader hears an anguished whisper of his name and warm hands grasping at his wrists. Kyungsoo’s eyes catch a glimpse of dark hair before the world spins around him and suddenly he’s in a different place, on his feet a good distance away from where a flabbergasted Joonmyeon stands in the spot Kyungsoo was less than a second ago.

 _Fucking Jongin_ , he realizes, looking around but catching not a single glimpse of the younger man.

And then sirens echo in his ears, blaring over the sound of the pounding rain and the screams of the fight. Kyungsoo turns to see several police vehicles approaching, red and blue lights heading their direction. Both gangs notice immediately and begin running in a frenzy, hopping on their motorcycles or in their cars and speeding away before they can get arrested.

Chanyeol and Baekhyun pass him by, and then Minseok appears. He approaches the younger man and throws an arm over his shoulder, and that’s when Kyungsoo snaps out of his daze and leans against him, hobbling to where they previously parked their bikes, now soaked by the rain. With a little help, he climbs onto the seat, wincing at his injuries and pulling on his mask, jumping slightly in surprised pain as Victoria hops on behind him, having come with the reinforcements.

“Kyungsoo!” There’s a yell from several meters away, and Kyungsoo looks to his left to see Joonmyeon struggling in the hold of a couple of police officers, one with snow white hair tackling him to the ground. Kyungsoo grins and waves at him before revving his motorcycle and peeling out from Exodus.

 

As he drives, pushing past the cut on his side and ignoring the blood seeping over his clothes, his anger towards Jongin simmers and rises to a boil. It causes him to speed up to the point where Victoria is slapping him and telling him to slow down for the sake of their safety. Kyungsoo parks in the garage, the majority of his main gang following behind him. Many of them have suffered heavy blows and injuries, Yixing rushing in with the other healers to assist those too injured to walk. He watches Chanyeol, pale-faced, stumble and lean against Baekhyun. Playboy wasn’t defeated, but they suffered a heavy blow with the unexpected rain.

And it was Jongin’s fault.

With a glare strong enough to burn through steel, Kyungsoo stalks to the upper floor of the club, using the walls to hold him up and ignoring Yeri’s cries for him to come back to get his wounds treated. Water drips off of him with every step and he holds his stomach where the worst of the pain is as he approaches a single figure sitting on one of the club’s sofas, alone in the empty room. In blind rage, Kyungsoo roughly grabs Jongin’s shoulder.

“This is your fucking fault,” he snarls, meeting Jongin’s eyes with the fury of a thousand suns. “I shouldn’t have let you join. That’s the one of the worst beatings Playboy’s suffered since my goddamn father was the leader. And it’s all because Joonmyeon wants your ass more than he wants to see me lose.”

Jongin glares at him and rips Kyungsoo’s hand off of his shoulder, standing up. “I don’t have to listen to this,” he grumbles and begins to walk away, but Kyungsoo is quick to follow after him, grimacing at the blood soaking through his shirt and now bleeding onto his hand from the wound on his stomach.

“Okay, let’s talk about that shitty move you played, huh?” Kyungsoo moves to stand in front of Jongin, stopping him in the doorway. “I can handle myself. I don’t need your fucking help.”

“You were seconds away from being  _beheaded_ by Joonmyeon! Did you think I was just going to sit by and watch that happen?” Jongin defends.

“Why were you even  _there_?”

“I…” Jongin falters in his speech, suddenly reluctant to speak. He sighs, “I wanted to make sure something bad didn’t happen. If something happened to you, it would be my fault because Joonmyeon wants me, not you.”

“If you knew this was going to happen, why did you come to me?”

“You agreed to this! We’ve been over this already!” Jongin groans, looking milliseconds away from yanking out his hair in frustration. “You are just as responsible for this as I am. So don’t act like this is just my fault because you fucking agreed to having me join, knowing the consequences.”

Kyungsoo just stares at him silently, hating that Jongin is right. He had agreed knowing that El Dorado would come after them the second word got out. Like a child, his cheeks turn pink in embarrassment and anger.

Kyungsoo huffs before reaching out to delve his hand into Jongin’s hair, yanking him down and promptly smashing their lips together. He almost sighs at the familiar feeling and taste as Jongin relaxes against him, kiss deepening and lips moving roughly. There’s something different about kissing Jongin that Kyungsoo can’t pinpoint. It gives him an electric rush that no one else can deliver and has him shivering and wanting more.

But they both pull away before that  _more_  boundary can be overstepped.

Kyungsoo slumps against Jongin, feeling a little dizzy and out of breath. He frowns. “You can’t keep hiding, from Joonmyeon and from what happened. I can’t protect you forever.”

“I didn’t do it.”

“I know, Jongin.”

A third person clears their throat, and Kyungsoo and Jongin hurriedly pull away from each other. Yeri stands by the staircase that leads to the upper floor of the club. Whether she saw the kiss or not isn’t evident and Kyungsoo can only hope she didn’t. The last person he wants to find out about his little thing with Jongin is his younger sister.

Yeri instead frowns at his condition and moves over, lifting Kyungsoo’s torn shirt and jacket to see the extent of his wounds. A large laceration runs down the side of his left ribcage and was surrounded with purpling bruises. Similar cuts decorated his arms and legs, visible through his torn jeans.

She lets out a whimper of pity. “Why didn’t you come get this healed when I told you to?” Yeri sighs and looks to Jongin. “Can you carry him down to Yixing, please? I don’t think I can do all this by myself.”

Kyungsoo immediately refuses. “No, I can walk by myself—” He nearly yelps when Jongin scoops him up without warning, holding the older man bridal style. The movement jostles him and he hisses in pain, trying to stretch out into a position that doesn’t cause him agony and get him away from Jongin a little at the same time.

Yeri grins at Kyungsoo like she knows something, and he grumbles under his breath, whimpering silently with every step Jongin takes.


	5. 005

Kyungsoo hurts. His side is still sore and scabbed over because there were so many injuries from the fight that the healers could only partially heal some people, and like a good leader, Kyungsoo volunteered to be one of them, much to his sister’s disapproval. He feels delicate, and he really can’t afford to right now.

Hiding his wounds, he really hopes that Yixing or Yeri or one of the others recovers soon, because he isn’t sure how much more of this he can take. Focusing on the things he has to do while his side and arm and leg is throbbing painfully is a lot more difficult than he had anticipated.

This morning he had struggled to get out of bed, grumbling under his breath as he made his way downstairs, and he wasn’t even allowed to go anywhere like this. Usually he would go conduct business somewhere, order some peripheral groups around, trade things. But he couldn’t. He still vocally blamed Jongin a little, but he knew that it was his own fault, and Jongin just rolled his eyes every time he said anything.

Evening falls and the fluorescent lights illuminate the city and Kyungsoo finds himself lounging in the bar again, drinking another sweet concoction made by Victoria. It eases the pain just a little, and he suspects she might’ve taken pity on him because this drink is stronger than it should be, he’s sure.

“Kyungsoo?” Jongin’s voice comes out of nowhere. Always lurking in the shadows, he thinks, staring into the bottom of his glass.

“What?” He grunts, not looking at him. After that stunt he pulled last night, carrying him down the stairs like some kind of fucking princess, he isn’t really in his good books right now. He didn’t want to be helped.

“Yesterday...you told me to stop hiding. I was wondering if you might, well, help me with that.”

“How the hell do you expect me to do that?” Kyungsoo growls, wishing all his problems would just go away and never come back, but no, one of them is sat next to him, ordering them both another drink. It irrationally annoys him that Jongin either already knows his favorite, or remembers it from before. Victoria watches them both with interest before Kyungsoo glares at her, and she turns around to at least pretend to give them privacy.

“I thought that I should track down the real murderer, clear my name and all that. I just thought you could help,”

“Again...how?” Kyungsoo rubs his temples, “How am I supposed to do that? Do I look like a detective to you?”

“Well, no. But I think if we got a group together, say, Baekhyun, Chanyeol, you and a few others. I think we could crack the case.”

“Sure, whatever, I’ll think about it,” Kyungsoo dismisses him, ignoring the way the light bounces off his jawline, and his adam’s apple bobbing as he gulps down his drink. He blinks. He can’t be that drunk already, can he? He looks at his glass in bewilderment.

“I’m going to take that as a yes. I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon then, here.” Jongin pats his back, and leaves without another word. Kyungsoo takes a moment to recover, thinking through the light alcohol-induced haze.

Victoria leans over the counter across from him and grins predatorily,

“I saw the way you were looking at him. Looks like someone’s got the hots for our resident murderer,” she winks.

“He didn’t kill them. That’s why he’s here,”

“Ok, sure. But I know what I saw,”

“Fuck off, Vic,” he grumbles. She smiles serenely at him, but leaves him alone for a while, alone with his thoughts and another glass of alcohol.

Helping Jongin find the true murderer would work to his advantage as well, he thinks; imagine telling Joonmyeon that he was wrong all along! He’d never pass up an opportunity to piss him off like this, and he’d would be honor bound to leave him be afterwards, so win-win.

-

After visiting Yixing in the morning, Kyungsoo feels a lot better, and is in a great deal less pain. He shook his head as he knitted the remains of his flesh back together and tutted at him for trying to be a martyr. It wasn’t in Kyungsoo’s nature to be selfless like that, and Yixing knew he only did it because it helped his image of the leader.

He’s the last one to arrive at the bar, and Baekhyun is waving him over enthusiastically as he walks in. All of them—Jongin, his main team, Krystal, Vic and his sister—are sat round one of the tables on the far side, one of the big ones, and there’s a large sheet of paper in the middle. Doing things old school, he thinks with a pang, remembering back to the days his father would give him paper and tell him to draw anything he wanted on it. That was a long time ago, and even then it was old fashioned.

He seats himself between Yixing and Yeri, on the opposite side to Jongin, and purses his lips, staring at the blank paper.

“So where do we start?” He sighs, hoping this doesn’t take too long. Not that he really has anything better to do.

“We need to think of alternative suspects,” Chanyeol announces, snatching the pencil out of Jongin’s hand and writing ‘SUSPECTS’ in large, heavy-handed letters. Jongin nods in agreement and Baekhyun frowns.

“Irene,” Krystal says, monotone, and Victoria rubs her shoulder comfortingly. Kyungsoo glances at her out of the corner of his eye and decides he should tread carefully around the subject, but nods at Chanyeol to write down the name.

“She did turn up afterwards, and she isn’t the  _sanest_ of people, I’ll agree.” Everyone by now has heard about what she did to Krystal, and everyone is dancing around her like she’s a glass figurine. She doesn’t seem to hate the special treatment, but he knows her well enough to know that it would get old quickly. She was never a delicate flower.

"Not to mention she's got Joonmyeon wrapped around her little finger," Victoria sneers.

“Anyone else?” Baekhyun asks, tapping their fingers on the polished wood.

“What if it was actually Joonmyeon? And he staged it to look like Jongin did it so he could, like, take over?” suggests Minseok.

“That could explain why he’s so angry to have him back in Ordure,” Kyungsoo nods. Chanyeol writes his name down too.

Yeri nudges his side, “How are we going to prove any of this?” She whispers, eyebrows pulled together in concern. Kyungsoo sighs through his nose, and leans closer, taking comfort in her familiar presence.

“I don’t know, but we’ll figure it out ok? Don’t you worry.”

“Ok,” she mumbles, still not sounding sure at all.

“Anyone else?” comes Baekhyun’s voice, and Kyungsoo looks over to see them lounging over Chanyeol’s legs, and rolls his eyes. They always make a show of being close with one another but Kyungsoo knows their relationship is much less salacious than they’d have everyone believe: neither of them are even human and neither of them- so far as he knows- have that kind of desire. Their relationship is more emotional than physical.

“I can’t think of anyone else,” Kyungsoo says, scratching his nails over the wood patterns on the tabletop.

“Maybe you should put down everyone in both Playboy and El Dorado,” Jongin murmurs, voice carrying over the scratch of Chanyeol’s pencil and causing it to halt. Everyone in the room turns to look at Kyungsoo, a myriad of different expressions on their faces ranging from confused and betrayed and hopeful. And guilty—Jongin.

He nods again, and Chanyeol makes it perfectly clear that he resents the idea of being thought of as a cold blooded assassin sneaking around in the shadows in the way he almost snaps the pencil led while writing. He prefers to see the fear in people’s eyes as he kills them, to have them know it was him.

Kyungsoo clenches his jaw- the only way this can work now is by having everyone provide alibis, and that is something he really doesn’t want to do, not now not ever. Jongin makes eye contact with him, but looks away quickly, knowing that they must be thinking the same thing.

There has to be a way to not tell them. Why is he even so hell-bent on keeping it a secret? Maybe it’s just because he’s stubborn, but there  _will_ be consequences if the others find out. His reputation will be in shambles.

All of them stare at the paper, still largely blank, wracking their brains for more names, more potential suspects, but none of them can think of any specific people. Chanyeol notices Jongin is glaring at the sheet particularly intensely, and throws a jovial arm over his shoulder,

“Don’t think too hard, buddy. We’ll track down this creep and crush their skull for doing this to you,” he promises, shaking his shoulders. Jongin huffs but manages a half-smile anyway. Kyungsoo regards him distantly, glad in a weird sort of way that Jongin might be getting a little better here. Compared to the wreck he was when he first saw him around, anyway.

Chanyeol looks like he’s about to say something, mouth open, but is interrupted by some clanging emanating from beyond the kitchen doorway. Did something happen in the garage? Kyungsoo is already on his feet on his way to find out what the heck is going on near his precious motor vehicles when a young boy comes flying out and straight into Kyungsoo’s chest. The poor kid looks up in startled horror, and backs away instantly, hands rigid behind his back with nerves.

“K-Kyungsoo, boss, um, there’s a very important—!”

“Speak slowly,” Kyungsoo orders, arms folded across his chest and head tilted back to exude his usual air of authority, though those closest to him can tell he’s agitated by the tightness of his jaw and the harsh set of his eyebrows.

“Breakdown—they’re here. They want to speak to you, it’s—it’s urgent.”

"Are you  _shitting_  me?" Kyungsoo growls. Everyone behind him stands quickly at the statement, and the leader looks back to see Jongin staring down at the floor in guilt. The boy in front of him scurries away, and Kyungsoo stands there for a moment, trying to think of what to do.

"Don't read too far into it, Kyungsoo," Yixing speaks up. "Leeteuk probably just wants to talk it out first. He wants Jongin and wants to make a deal with you."

"Fuck him," Kyungsoo grumbles, fishing out his packet of cigarettes and lighting one, perching it between his lips, "I'm not making any goddamn deals." Chanyeol and Baekhyun hoot and holler at that statement, but the younger man is quick to turn to them.

"Minseok, Yixing, come with me. Everyone else stay here. If a fight breaks out, you know what to do," he orders before his eyes land on the man of the hour. "Jongin...you come too."

Chanyeol wrinkles his nose. "You sure, Boss? Leeteuk might snatch him from you when you aren't looking."

"You heard him," Kyungsoo takes a drag from his cigarette. "He just wants to  _talk_."

-

When the four of them step out of the front doors of the club, Leeteuk, the longtime leader of Breakdown, stands before him with a couple of his main men behind him. Kyungsoo has only met the older man a few times before, mostly seeing him back when Kyungsoo's father was still leading Playboy. He remembers shaking hands with him when he was eight and Leeteuk was  _eighteen_.

Not being from Ordure, it's not often that Breakdown and Playboy cross paths unless striking a big drug or arms deal.

Leeteuk's eyes narrow at the sight of Jongin, but a wide smile is quickly plastered on his face when his gaze meets Kyungsoo's. He always looks sneaky when smiling, and the Playboy leader hates it. "Kyungsoo, so nice to see you, as always," he beams.

"Stop grinning like that. My father is probably rolling in his grave," Kyungsoo glares, burned out cigarette dangling from his lips. "What did you want to talk about?"

The older gang leader's expression turns grim. "Give me Kim Jongin in three days or less and I won't tear your tiny fucking excuse for a ‘club’ to the ground," he spits, steel eyes locking on Jongin's shadowed form. "And tell him to give me my goddamn ring back."

Kyungsoo looks back at the younger man with wide eyes. "You stole his ring?" Leeteuk's ice magic resides in the ring he usually wears on his middle finger. To steal it basically meant death, and now Kyungsoo's a little pissed that Jongin hid something that important from him.

"The little fucker slept with my wife too!" Leeteuk snarls, and Kyungsoo hears Minseok trying to stifle a snicker from behind him.

Jongin offers a sheepish but proud smile, and Kyungsoo can't say he's not impressed. Sleeping with the beautiful assassin Park Sojin is a big feat. He clears his throat though and attempts to mend the situation without a fight. He'd be open to one usually, but Kyungsoo knows when and when _not_ to play his cards.

"How about Jongin just gives you the ring back and we just let bygones be bygones?" Kyungsoo sighs.

"Fine," Leeteuk folds his arms, "but I want Jongin too. I'm not gonna let him just get away with this."

"Let's make a deal then," Kyungsoo wrestles the ring from where Jongin's hid it in the pocket of his coat, the pale sapphire jewel glinting in the light when he tosses it to the older gang leader. "A one-on-one race, between you and me," he suggests.

"Kyungsoo, I'm not sure that's—" Yixing's concerned voice cuts off when Kyungsoo raises a hand to shush him.

"Winner gets Jongin?" Leeteuk raises a brow and the start of a smirk tugs at his lips.

"Exactly," Kyungsoo pretends not to feel Jongin's eyes glaring at his back.

"Deal," Leeteuk agrees swiftly, overflowing with confidence. "Three days from now. My turf. Just you and me."

"Agreed,"

-

Three days later, the day of the race, Kyungsoo stands as Wendy does one last check up on his bike before they head out to Breakdown's territory, the large city of Bedúfan. His main team is readying their bikes as well, going to support their leader. They're all excited, knowing Kyungsoo is going to win and shove Leeteuk's face into the asphalt and make a bigger name for Playboy. Kyungsoo can't help but be a little ecstatic himself. He's the best racer in Ordure, as great as his father was. He can easily win against Leeteuk.

He lights a cigarette as he waits, leaning against the wall and smoking leisurely. Kyungsoo doesn't even react when Jongin settles to stand beside him, obviously displeased with the whole ordeal as he has been for the past few days. Maybe he doesn’t like feeling like something that has to be won, fought over, but that doesn’t matter in the long run. Kyungsoo doesn’t  _want_ him to die, so this is the price both of them have to pay.

"You're making a mistake," Jongin murmurs, barely audible.

"I don’t know what you’re referring to,” Kyungsoo sighs, tendrils of smoke curling into the damp air. It’s almost always raining here, and if it’s not, then it’s about to.

“You have no idea what you’re getting into, trust me,” he tries again, fingers curling around his forearm and eyebrows drawing together, making Kyungsoo wish they were alone. They have to leave soon, but surely they could spare, say, twenty minutes? He shakes his head to rid himself of that kind of thinking, and turns to look at Jongin sardonically,

“I am going to beat Leeteuk, what’s not to understand?” Jongin just shakes his head, jaw clenched in what looks like barely contained exasperation. He opens his mouth like he’s about to say something else, maybe persuade him not to go or something, but he doesn’t get the words out before Wendy calls him over.

“Kyungsoo! Your bike is running perfectly quit stalling!” She waves him over with a hand motion he’d probably be offended by if it were anyone else, so Kyungsoo stamps out his cigarette and leaves Jongin behind to get started. It’s not a short journey to Bedúfan and they will need to travel for a few hours to get there, so leaving as soon as possible is best.

“Jongin doesn’t have a bike,” Wendy informs him shortly, as he reaches her. Kyungsoo grips the handlebar of his baby, and hopes she isn’t going to say what he thinks she’s going to say,

“So?”

“So I think he should ride with you,” She smirks, adjusting her hair and smearing pitch black oily marks on her forehead as she does so.  _Always so smug,_  he thinks,  _why do I let her get away with this_.

“Can’t he just teleport there?”

“No, he says he can’t go that far,” Wendy smiles, looking over his shoulder at Jongin. Kyungsoo resists the sudden urge to turn around.

“Are you sure he’s not lying?” He was sure Jongin is perfectly capable of using his magic for long distance journeys—maybe they both planned this together; he wouldn’t put it past either of them.

“Well, if you don’t believe me, feel free to take it up with him. Only, you have to do it in about five minutes, you’re due to go—hmm, right now actually.” She winks at him before leaving him alone to help out with other people’s last minute bike issues, and Kyungsoo swings his leg over the saddle of his bike, initializing the force field engine and feeling the comforting thrum beneath him.

“Kyungsoo,” Jongin’s voice by his ear makes him cringe. He turns around slowly, not anticipating the idea of being forced into such an intimate proximity for so long. Sighing through his nose he jerks his head to the far wall,

“Go get a mask,” Is all he says, but the relief in Jongin’s eyes is obvious.

And that how he ends up almost  _cradled_ in Jongin’s arms for the journey there. He’s going out of his mind, and he’s positive Jongin must be messing with him; there’s no way you can accidentally touch someone that many times. Wandering hands and shifting behind him have him almost crashing before they get there on multiple occasions, and cursing Jongin’s name to the pits of hell, especially when he seems to get sleepy and rests his head on Kyungsoo's shoulder.

As the outskirts of the city come into view, Kyungsoo has a sinking feeling- these are not roads like he’s used to. They are narrow stagnant rivers, weaving between the houses and reeking of human waste. There is a small walkway on each side forcing them all to travel slower in single file, and small dilapidated bridges at irregular intervals.

Maybe Jongin was right, he didn’t really know what he was getting into. Sure he’d heard that canals were a mode of transportation in this city, but he hadn’t realized it was the  _only_ way of getting around. How is he supposed to race like this? One wrong move and he’ll plummet into sewage and that would mean an instant loss. He wouldn’t be able to recover in time, and his bike would short out too.

He’d almost forgotten Jongin was there in the shock of processing all this, and it’s only when a reassuring hand rests over his thigh that he remembers he has no choice. He’s still going to win this. Jongin, and his pride, hang in the balance.

Up ahead, he can see a gathering of people, and a few bikes. It has to be some of Leeteuk’s crew, but they’re on the other side of the canal. There isn’t really enough space to join them on that side so they will have to meet in the middle.

As he slows down, Kyungsoo puts a hand out to signal to the others behind that he’s going to stop, then gets off his bike and pats the side nervously. Jongin’s hand brushes his as he leaves, and he gives him a look as if to say ‘be careful’. He nods, oddly touched, before clenching his jaw and holding himself proudly, stalking to the bridge to wait for Leeteuk so they can establish the rules.

Maybe there was paint covering the wood once, but no one has cared enough to repaint it for a long time now. It’s just dark, half rotten wood now, and it bounces unnervingly beneath his feet. Kyungsoo will remember this; better to not risk crossing one if it might collapse.

“Kyungsoo,” Leeteuk greets amicably, and then looks over his shoulder at Kyungsoo’s small band of close members. He can tell when he’s looking at Jongin because his eyebrows pull together and his lip curls menacingly. Kyungsoo extends the same courtesy, surveying the people Leeteuk has brought with him. He recognizes a few, but can’t put many names to the faces. He’s pretty sure the one with blonde hair is powered by the sun, like that superman character from those ancient comics. Is his name Heechul? Kyungsoo isn’t sure, but he doesn’t let any of this show on his face.

“Leeteuk,”

“One on one, no interference from anyone. We start here and the finishing point is on the opposite side of the city, near the clock tower on main river,” Leeteuk states. Kyungsoo has no idea where that is, so he’ll have to rely on his map, and maybe get some advice from Jongin. That would mean admitting he isn’t completely in control here, but it’s better than losing.

“Understood,”

“Great. Let’s get started,” Leeteuk spins on his heel and glides towards his ride, not even sparing Kyungsoo a glance. Huffing quietly, Kyungsoo heads back too, and tries to quell the nervous jitters. He’s never one to get nervous before a race; usually the buildup of adrenaline has him revving to start, not fumbling just to start it up.

“C’mon, Kyungsoo. You can do this,” Jongin tries to be reassuring, but he doesn’t sound like he believes what he’s saying. And Kyungsoo is starting not to also. He bites the inside of his cheek and does his best to memorize the layout of the city on his map before they begin.

It’s not easy- while Ordure is fairly regularly constructed in blocks and squares, Bedúfan is a sprawling mess of knotted waterways that crisscross and don’t make sense. If he doesn’t fall into the sewage and lose, he’ll get lost. And lose.

“Don’t use this route,” Jongin says, leaning over his shoulder and pointing at one of the many, many bridges marked on his holographic map. Kyungsoo nods, even though he probably won’t remember which one he just pointed to in a second.

He looks behind him towards the others, Baekhyun and Chanyeol both watching him with well concealed concern. To anyone else they look stoic, but even from a distance Kyungsoo can tell that they’re worried for their friend.

His hands on the handlebars, Kyungsoo jerks his head to tell Jongin to back away and prepares to begin the race, pulling his mask over his face and pretending to change some settings for the forcefield projector. He glances towards Leeteuk, who is putting on gloves and adjusting his clothes. Kyungsoo’s muscles twitch as adrenaline floods his body, and suddenly he wants to get this over with- the tension has been building all day and it’s wearing on him.

“You ready yet?” He shouts across the filthy water.

“I was waiting on you,” Leeteuk calls back, resting his foot on the floor and looking like he hasn’t a care in the world, like this race is totally inconsequential. Kyungsoo will win and show him that Playboy is not a gang to be taken lightly.

“On the whistle,” an androgynous voice Kyungsoo doesn’t recognize calls out. The person is standing on the bridge, and Kyungsoo can’t even see the person’s face, but he doesn’t care enough to squint to get a better look. Kyungsoo’s foot is poised on the clutch, ready to let go and fly the instant he hears the signal.

“Three...two...one!”

Everything slows down when the whistles blows, but like elastic, Kyungsoo snaps back into reality and he is hurtling down the small paved walkway, the thrum of the engine beneath him and the wind whipping through his hair.

He wishes he could relax and let the rush of racing consume him, if only for a few seconds, but there is too much riding on this, and he can’t risk letting his concentration slide for even a moment, or he will lose everything.

Leeteuk remains in the forefront of his vision, and Kyungsoo keeps pace with him, he hopes to let him lead him to the finish line. He should have known that would be too good to be true, it’s hard enough focusing on where he is headed and avoiding swerving off the narrow path, let alone where his foe is going. In next to no time, Leeteuk is almost out of sight, and Kyungsoo needs to do something to level the playing field.

Furious with himself for falling behind so quickly, Kyungsoo revs his engine and pushes on faster, desperately hoping he’s going the right way and not in the wrong direction.  _All these buildings look the same_ , he curses, destroying one in malice. He doesn’t stick around to watch the wall crumble.

Summoning all the power he can, he funnels his growing ball of rage into building a bridge that crosses the canal, not even knowing if it will help. At least his makeshift bridges are safer than the already existing ones, since it’s made of rock rather than rotting wood.

His bike is quieter than most, since it uses force field tech rather than a conventional, or old fashioned, petroleum engine, so he listens out for the sounds of Leeteuk’s engine roaring, and though its indistinct, he can hear something ahead of him, so he heads in that direction.

Catching up with his opponent takes far less time than Kyungsoo had dared to hope for, as he only turns three corners before he’s right there in front of him. It seems Leeteuk is taking it easy now that he is in the lead. That will be his downfall, Kyungsoo thinks, stretching out his fingers in preparation. A sharp movement sends the building in front of Leeteuk’s bike crumbling down, and the rider swerving almost out of control. Kyungsoo smirks vindictively.

Leeteuk turns around, once he’s under control once again, and makes a upwards swiping motion with his hand, which has Kyungsoo confused, until he’s driving head first into a wall of thick ice.

“Fuck!” He panics, raising a ramp and speeding up to jump it even as it’s still growing.  _He isn’t going to make it, he isn’t_ \- he lands safely, vehicle juddering and heart pounding, on the narrow pathway. He bites his tongue, and tastes blood welling in his mouth, but can’t feel the pain yet. He isn’t out of the woods yet, and the map on his screen is no longer making sense to him, so he closes it for now. He knows vaguely which direction to go; he can forge a path through the houses if he fucking has to.

Laughing maniacally, Leeteuk raises freezing stalagmites from the floor, all of them with the point facing at Kyungsoo so to impale him, but Kyungsoo is skilled at evasion techniques, used to racing around moving people- randomly appearing icicles are no match for him. Or, they wouldn’t be, if it were a wider track. Kyungsoo narrowly misses falling off the edge and into the foul water, and his hands are sweating inside his gloves.

“Enjoying yourself, asshole?” Leeteuk shouts back, barely heard over the ice cracking and the motor screaming under the pressure, “Jongin is going to suffer for what he did, and there’s not a thing you can do. To. Stop. It!” He punctuates each word with a huge icy spike, that have Kyungsoo scrambling to maintain a secure grip on the floor and evade them. He spits blood on the ground. It freezes almost instantly, but Kyungsoo is already too far away to notice and too far gone to care.

It’s too much, and Kyungsoo is overwhelmed by the barrage of frigid attacks that just keep coming, he needs to do something to distract him, divert his attention elsewhere. Waiting for an opportunity, just a millisecond in which he can cause disruption, Kyungsoo dodges and weaves around the icicles, refusing to give up, it comes after they turn another corner.

Kyungsoo uses his chance to split a crack in the pathway, one which is wide enough for Leeteuk to fall into, but only the front half of his bike. The halt in momentum sends him flying off his bike and Kyungsoo whips past him, screaming obscenities as he goes.

Kyungsoo wastes no time in racing ahead, elated at something finally going his way. He lets out a whoop of exhilaration, and hunkers down low over the bonnet of his bike, taking care not to fall as he raises barriers behind him to slow his enemy down.

What he should have taken into account was the fact that Leeteuk knows his city as well as Kyungsoo knows Ordure.

Still grinning from his minor victory, Kyungsoo sets a ramp over and jumps the brown sludge below. He barely feels the shockwave course through him as he touches down, but as he turns another complicated twisting corner, Leeteuk comes out of nowhere, grazing his side with alarming proximity, making him cry out. How the hell did he catch up so fast? Is he toying with him? Kyungsoo hates being played for a fool.

Leeteuk’s face turns to his slowly, abominable smirk playing havoc on his lips. Kyungsoo has not wanted to use impulsive violence this badly in a long while, but if he lets go of his control he might die. Somehow, he’s still considering doing so, if it will take the smug smile off his face.

Using just his fingers, lifting two from their grip around the bar, he flings a pebble at Leeteuk. It hits him on the jaw, hard enough to cause a bruise but no more. It does the intended job, however, Kyungsoo’s opponent glowering at him frostily.

He accelerates. Kyungsoo matches him. But then, he finds himself losing control, his vehicle responding too slowly. By the narrowest of margins, he avoids slamming into a nearby house, and then only just survives falling, the back end of his bike hanging over the brown canal as he swerves.

What the hell is going on? Has Leeteuk tampered with his bike?

“No, no, no.” Kyungsoo hisses, gripping with more strength than should be normal for a human, and almost crushing his handlebar in his desperation, using all of his skill simply just to stay out of the water, let alone catch up. It gets worse, suddenly, and that’s when he thinks to look down, at the growing layer of black ice coating the mossy flagstones.

This moment of inattention causes his downfall. In the second that he takes to look down and realise what was causing the loss of control, he probably could have avoided the wall that was hurtling towards him with daunting velocity,

“No, no,  _no_! Nonono!” Kyungsoo screams in terror, all but tearing off the handlebar off his bike to get it to go the other way. The bike tips over, balance disrupted, and Kyungsoo slides into the wall, underneath his bike, and collides with the rock wall. Something explodes, and dislodged rocks tumble down around him.

He screams. Then he looks down at his body, trapped under a pile of metal and stone, bleeding and feels dizzy. He throws up. Then cries out in agony again, struggling to breathe. He thinks his leg might be gone.

With another primal scream, he tries to push some of the debris away from him, and, using the last reserves of his energy, heaves his beloved bike off his leg.

It’s not gone, but it  _should_ be.

He vomits again.

He takes a few deep breaths, then inches backwards, away from the wreckage, leg trailing behind him in a bloody mangled mess. Crawling is excruciating, but he manages to get a little away from the heap of broken things, holding back a scream with each jerky movement. A bloody trail follows his path. Tears are pouring over his face, and he can barely see anything, the edges of his vision blackening as the pain overwhelms him. He failed.

It would be ok for him to just lie here, right?

Just… just for a moment.


	6. 006

Chanyeol is playing a card game with Baekhyun while waiting at the finish line for Kyungsoo to win the race. There’s an occasional crash somewhere in the distance, but none of them are worried, as that’s normal for races, especially when Kyungsoo is involved. He likes destroying things almost as much as Chanyeol does.

It’s when the crashes  _stop_ that they start to worry.

“I can’t hear anything, have they finished already?” Baekhyun asks, getting up and squinting into the distance. Neither of them can see anything, not even when Baekhyun sits on Chanyeol’s shoulders to get a better vantage point. Chanyeol frowns, and looks around at the others—Minseok is sitting next to his bike, staring hard at nothing in particular and Jongin is half hiding in a shadow, back facing everyone. He seems worried too—they all are. Leeteuk’s gang members don’t seem too bothered, however, a group of them chatting and laughing on the other side of the canal.

“I’m sure he’s fine,” Baekhyun says, patting Chanyeol’s arm once he’s climbed down again, “that’ll be him now,” they incline their head into the distance, to where the sound of an engine emanates. It doesn’t sound right, but that might just be the way it reverberates off their surroundings differently to back home. Different acoustics.

It clicks when Super Junior start cheering, and getting up to greet their leader who screeches around the corner, that something is  _very wrong_. And then, when there’s no sign of Kyungsoo appearing within the next few seconds, he and his partner share a look, an icy chill settling over both of them.

Kyungsoo _lost?_

“Looks like I win!” Leeteuk shouts, calling out as he removes his mask and shakes out his hair. Chanyeol  _hates_ him. Baekhyun takes his hand so he doesn’t do anything rash, able to withstand the immense heat of his bones better than any human.

“Where is Kyungsoo?” Minseok snarls, taking the position of Kyungsoo’s right hand man.

“I don’t know, back there somewhere. I think a building might have fallen on him, who knows? Hand over the scumbag and get outta here.” He orders with such a nonchalant attitude, Chanyeol might have thought he was joking if he couldn’t see the ugly curl in his lip.

“No, you can’t have him,” Chanyeol stands in front of him, arms spread out to protect his friend. Leeteuk dips his head forward, baring his teeth, then sharply reaches up to snap his fingers once.

“Looks like someone doesn’t know how to play by the rules.” A sharp, cut-off cry behind him alerts the Leuod Fai to someone’s presence there, and he swivels on his heel but it’s too late; someone is backing into the shadows, dragging Jongin’s inert body along with them. Quick to come to his aid, Chanyeol dives after him, but Baekhyun holds him back, clinging onto him even when he fights.

“It’s his right to take him, it was the agreement,” Baekhyun tries to explain, and Chanyeol understands, he  _does_ , but he can’t just stand there and let them get away with this! He screams at the futility, casting wispy flames on his breath. That’s his  _friend_.

They all watch helplessly as they load him onto the back of one of their bikes carelessly, like he’s just another bag of product. His arm sticks out awkwardly over the side. Baekhyun squeezes his hand.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take great care of him.” Leeteuk leers, revving his engine, “Oh, and you might want to check up on your precious boss, he didn’t look so good back there.” He calls over his shoulder.

Before he even completes his sentence, Chanyeol is racing to his bike and heading off in the opposite direction to find his fallen leader. The others follow swiftly, and they split up to find him faster.

It’s Baekhyun who finds him, sending up a pillar of bright, white light as a beacon.

When Chanyeol sees his friend’s mangled body, he can’t control himself. The fire is creeping up his arms and setting everything alight. Someone shouts for him to calm down, and through the twisting smoke, he sees them drag Kyungsoo off. Rage consumes him.

He blacks out.

When he comes to, Baekhyun is holding him tightly, and most of the buildings around are burnt and blackened, parts crumbling away. His face is wet from tears, and Baekhyun’s eyes are dark too.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles. They don’t need to worry about him when they should be worrying about their leader, but it’s no secret that Chanyeol idolizes him. He has for a very long time, ever since Kyungsoo found him.

Chanyeol had escaped from the laboratory he was created in—entirely by accident, the same way he had just destroyed his surroundings a moment ago. It didn’t matter, because he’d hated it there anyway, with all the tests and needles and loneliness. But then thirteen year old Kyungsoo found ten year old him, shivering in a puddle and trying to keep warm with his flaming fingers.

He was the one who persuaded his father to take him in and protect him from a life like that, and when the scientists tried to take him back, Kyungsoo was the first to stand up against them. He owes the man so much.

“It’s ok.” Baekhyun says, brushing back some his charred fringe, “We just need to get him back to Yixing as fast as we can.”

“I’m sorry for causing more trouble,” Chanyeol groans as he sits up, shedding ashes everywhere. His bones are still red hot inside him, but his clothes are still intact for the most part.

“Shh,” Baekhyun scolds, leading him to his bike, “Do you think you can ride by yourself?”

“Yes,” Chanyeol scoffs, glancing over to where Kyungsoo is laid on a gurney behind Minseok’s bike,  _covered_ in blood. The salvageable parts of his bike trail behind Baekhyun. There isn’t much there.

“Let’s go,” Minseok says, sounding hoarse. He leads the return journey.

-

Voices are chattering around him, buzzing around his brain. Kyungsoo scrunches his nose in annoyance and turns his head on the pillow in hopes of shutting them out.

“Shut up,” he grumbles, slowly opening his eyes to the blinding light of the room. He tries lifting a hand to rub at his eyes but finds it difficult to gather the strength. There are multiple gasps and murmurs of his name, and Kyungsoo’s eyes finally adjust to see Yeri, Yixing, and the others surrounding his bed - which he swiftly recognizes as one of the sick bay beds, the ones Yixing uses for the Playboy members who have suffered major injury.

And then it comes back to him. Breakdown. The race. Leeteuk.  _Jongin_.

He lost.

Kyungsoo feels the burn of angry tears in the corner of his eyes and he sits up, much to Yixing’s disapproval.

“Your injuries aren’t healed yet, Kyungsoo!” he berates, pressing down gingerly on his shoulders to force him back down. Kyungsoo relents for a moment.

“Where’s Jongin?” he asks, only to be met with sad eyes and silence. This pisses him off. “I asked, where the  _fuck_  is Jongin?!” Kyungsoo shouts this time, throat burning.

“Breakdown took him,” Baekhyun answers him calmly, anticipating the outburst they would receive.

The room shudders with the force of Kyungsoo’s anger, his power slightly going out of control as his emotions do so. His anger and his guilt all mix into one mess, and Kyungsoo grits his teeth to calm himself down. He knows he shouldn't get pissed off at the messenger but—

"Why didn't any of you do anything? You just _let him go_  like that?" Kyungsoo growls, not comprehending why none of them fought back against Leeteuk.

"I wanted to!" Chanyeol raises his voice from behind Baekhyun.

"But it was more important that we get you here immediately," Minseok intercepts with a glare in Chanyeol's direction. "Would you rather us have battled it out against  _Breakdown_  and lost more people?"

Kyungsoo falls silent, knowing Minseok is right. He can't even feel his leg, the bad one, underneath the blanket, but he can’t imagine it’s in tip-top shape. One of his hands grips the sheets tightly as his gaze falls to the lump underneath, wondering about the condition of his leg. Is it still  _there?_ He can hardly imagine it’s all in one piece. Just remembering it makes him sick to his stomach.

“How...How is it?” he asks quietly, not looking up.

Yixing’s shoes scuff against the cement flooring as he steps up, resting a hand on Kyungsoo’s good leg. “I did the best I could. What happened...well, it couldn’t be healed with simply magic. Your leg won’t be as mobile as before. You’ll probably have a slight limp for a long while, maybe even forever. I healed and sewed up what I could, with Yeri’s help, but your knee—the joint was so damaged that I’ve had to replace your knee with a prosthetic. It’ll be a while before you can walk properly again,” he offers a reassuring smile, a dimple appearing. Yeri steps up as well and squeezes his shoulder gently, smiling too.

Kyungsoo, however, can’t find it in himself to smile. He only looks bitter with a grim expression. He lost the race. He lost Jongin. He lost his fucking leg, albeit not completely. His pride is damaged, and he feels like an idiot for ever thinking he could go up against Leeteuk alone.

“Any other bad news I should know?” Kyungsoo sighs, looking back at his somber team.

Victoria, who hasn’t spoken once, opens her mouth, before shutting it again hesitantly. Kyungsoo raises a brow and coaxes her to speak up.

“There’s been a lot of...negative reactions from all the members. A fourth of them have left, and we couldn’t stop them,” she murmurs, obviously reluctant to shove more disappointment on Kyungsoo’s shoulders.

“Fuck ‘em,” Kyungsoo grumbles, lying back against the pillows with a permanent frown. “They can run over to Joonmyeon’s pasty ass for all I care.”

It's a lie. Of course he cares. The news of his loss against Leeteuk makes him look like a cocky idiot. Even the fact that he agreed to a one-on-one race practically screams egoistic asshole. It isn't what Kyungsoo intended, but how else would they see it now that he's lost?

“Well,” Minseok speaks up after a moment of silence, “we’ll leave you alone for now. Just rest, okay?”

The group trickles out, and Yeri hugs him close one more time before leaving as well. The door closes, and Kyungsoo is alone with his thoughts. Biting his lip, he grips the white sheets hiding his leg injury from view. With several weak tugs, Kyungsoo manages to pull the blankets away from his legs. He’s wearing nothing but his underwear and while his right leg only has a long scar down the calf, his left has a brace around it. The skin is immensely bruised and covered in faint scars that couldn’t be healed completely. His entire knee is wrapped in bandages, and Kyungsoo knows a metal plate is hiding behind them. Gritting his teeth, he tries to move his legs just a tiny bit. He finds he can partially move the right but the left doesn’t even budge. It feels numb with pins and needles, and he figures it’s best to not even try.

He huffs and lies back against the pillows. He feels fucking useless. Jongin is gone, and he can’t do anything about it. The younger man even warned him that it was a terrible choice, and Kyungsoo still went with it. If he had just listened, Jongin wouldn’t be with Breakdown.

There’s no one else to blame. It’s completely his fault.

Jongin is their key piece to one-upping Joonmyeon and El Dorado. If they lose him, who knows what shit they’ll get into. Joonmyeon wants Jongin dead for sure, but Kyungsoo isn’t sure he wants Breakdown to be doing the killing. On the positive side, Leeteuk could just want to use him for his powers, but that idea pisses Kyungsoo off more than anything. If Jongin is up and moving, he has to be with Playboy.

Fuck it.

 

Yixing is in the middle of cleaning up the “operation” room (for lack of a better term) with Yeri, where he had previously finished dealing with Kyungsoo’s leg over a day ago. It’d been complete chaos, especially with everyone trying to get in to see how their leader was doing. Getting it cleaned up had been a feat on its own, and now they had to sanitize everything.

“I feel bad for Kyungsoo,” Yeri sighs, wiping down one of the steel counters. “His pride has always been his greatest treasure.”

“He’ll bounce back eventually,” Yixing reassures her with a dimpled smile as he mops the floor. “Before you know it he’ll be up and running in no time. He’s known to be quick to lick his wounds.” They both share a smile at their leader/brother’s antics before stilling at a sudden slam of a door, clattering, and shouts from a nearby room. Yixing and Yeri share a knowing look.

“Kyungsoo!” They both shout, dropping the mop and rag as they run out of the room and down the hallway.

There Kyungsoo stands, pale and nearly naked in only his boxers as he keeps himself up by holding onto the IV stand attached to one of his elbows. _At least he was smart enough to not rip it out_ , Yixing muses for a split second. The gang leader is visibly sweating and panting from the exertion, swatting away a few healers who try to stop him. His eyes are fixed into their usual glaring expression as he limps, dragging his left leg along.

“Get the fuck in gear,” Kyungsoo breathes. “We're getting Jongin back.”

“Are you serious?” Yeri shouts, running up to her older half-brother. “You look like you're about to pass out! There's no way you're going out to fight now.”

“I'm not sitting here while Jongin is in Leeteuk’s hands! You know he'll be disposed of soon if we don't go now,” Kyungsoo argues, looking dead serious despite his quivering legs and weak constitution. He turns to look at Yixing, “and I obviously can't go alone.”

Yixing sighs, holding his head for a moment. He knows he should be civil and level-headed, but that was never how Kyungsoo lived nor how Playboy operated. Yeri gapes at him as he strolls over and moves one of Kyungsoo’s arms over his shoulder to hold his weight. “I'll take him back to the room and take out his IV. You go fetch him some clothes.”

A total of twenty minutes later, Kyungsoo is limping through the halls and club (now dressed to impress), calling everyone to get their asses in the garage. Minseok and the others show up with surprised expressions at Kyungsoo up and moving so soon, though his brows furrow with each painful step he takes.

“Kyungsoo, what the fuck are you doing up?” Minseok asks as Kyungsoo moves to stand before the large amount of members all squeezed into the garage. Kyungsoo recognizes that a few familiar faces are missing—mainly people who have complained about his way of handling things before. He doesn’t miss them. Honestly, Jongin is worth more than the handful of members whose names he could hardly remember.

“Listen up!” Kyungsoo calls, the first time he’s directly talked to his gang in a while. “Tonight we’re going to take Kim Jongin back from Breakdown. I don’t care how you feel. You’re either coming, or you can leave.”

“Are you  _stupid_?” Chanyeol speaks up along with several other complaints and murmurs. “Look, I wanna save Jongin as much as you do, but do you even know where Breakdown’s base is? And what are you gonna do when we get there? You can hardly walk, Kyungsoo!”

“I’ll find them,” Kyungsoo states with a steel voice, firm and sure. “My leg isn’t important. I can ignore it. Point is, we need Jongin to have the upper hand on El Dorado. And it’s my fault that he’s with Leeteuk, so it’s my responsibility to get him out of that fucker’s hands.”

Chanyeol shuts his mouth instantly, looking down at Baekhyun for support. They shrug, and Yeri starts to push through the crowd, murmuring _excuse me_  before bursting out and stumbling in front of her brother. She’s dressed in darker and tight-fitting clothing, hair pulled up in pigtails. Kyungsoo knows what that means.

“I can help you find Breakdown’s territory, but you have to let me come,” Yeri states, crossing her arms and trying to look intimidating. She still looks like the little toddler Kyungsoo would rarely be able to play with when Yeri’s mother would let them. She never liked Kyungsoo, due to the fact that his mother was some poor prostitute his father knocked up, so she hardly let Yeri hang around him until Yeri was old enough to make her own decisions.

Kyungsoo stares at her for a moment before uttering out a simple, “Nope.” He moves to talk to Wendy, but Yeri catches his arm and turns him back around.

“C’mon, you can’t just search the city for his hideout! I can find it easily for you. I’m a Grade A hacker and you know it! I’m nineteen, Kyungsoo, I can do this! I want to help,” she shouts, face turning pink in anger. It surprises him a bit. He never knew she was this frustrated and eager to go with him.

“She’ll be fine if she stays with you,” Yixing encourages from the side. He knows that’s just to pacify him, because in his state he’s the one more in need of protection.

The Playboy leader gives him the stink-eye but faces Yeri with a sigh. “Fine, you can come. And if you’re gonna find the location, do it fast. We’ll head out this evening.”

Yeri squeals like it’s a gift, jumping happily before running off to do some quick research. Kyungsoo watches her go fondly, and then shakes his head. He needs to get to his bike.

 

Kyungsoo stares aghast at the pile of scrap that used to be his bike, and feels his heart break for the fourth or fifth time since he woke up in the sickbay.

“Sorry Kyungsoo, there was nothing I could do about it. It’s a shame; she was one of the best bikes I’ve gotten to work with.” Wendy apologizes, nudging one piece irreverently with her finger. Kyungsoo glares her down and she backs away, rolling her eyes.

“What else is there?” He hisses, staring around the garage. Aside from a few other bikes that are broken open with their innards spilling all over the floor, and the cars on the other side, he can’t see much in here.

“I don’t think I’ve got anything immediately rideable…” Wendy trails off, looking around the room as if something will suddenly pop out at her. “Wait! There is  _something_.” She edges around on of the broken bikes and opens a door which is half covered with pin-up posters featuring scantily clad women leaning over well-polished vehicles. The corners are peeling up and the colors fading a little, so they must have been there since before Wendy took over. Kyungsoo follows after her, hobbling slightly, and peers into the darkness. There’s something hiding underneath a large, grey cloth.

“It’s a bit old, and I don’t know how well she’ll run after all this time, but she’s all you’ve got,” She pulls the cover off, and there stands an old bike. Its shell is a dark green, the kind that shimmers and changes color in different light, like a bug, and the pipes are all on show, still glistening just the way he remembers, even though they’re a bit dusty. Kyungsoo gulps, feeling like a child again.

It’s his father’s bike.

“I can’t ride this,” he says. Wendy frowns at him, stroking the front like it can hear him,

“Sure you can. I’ll tune her up and she’ll be fine.”

“No, I can’t ride this,” Kyungsoo repeats, “there has to be something else,” he pleads, memories of his father speeding by already flooding his mind. This bike helped him win so many races, there’s no way Kyungsoo can expect to live up to that reputation.

“Yes you can Kyungsoo. I don’t know what that crash did to mess up your head, but you are perfectly capable of riding a bike like this. Move, so I can bring her out,” She pushes him aside, clearly frustrated, and wheels the bike carefully out into the main part of the garage. In the light, it looks even better, radiating an aura of pure speed.

Kyungsoo leans against the wall, already feeling a bit of strain on his bad leg, and counts to ten inside his head. Of course, Wendy doesn’t know whose bike this used to be. She just thinks it’s a beautiful, vintage bike- and she’s right, it is. But to Kyungsoo it means more than that.

“Do you want to go get Jongin back or not? Because this is all you’ve got, unless you want to ride with someone else, and we both know that’s not going to happen. The cars are too big for Bedúfan’s roads.”

“I know. I’ll ride her, just—fix her up.” He limps past the bike, touching it gently, and seats himself on an uncomfortable fold up chair to watch her get to work.

While Wendy furiously works on fixing up the heirloom, Kyungsoo drifts in and out of sleep. Dreams of going fast, then falling underwater, play across his eyelids, and keep him from staying out too long.

He isn’t quite sure how much time passes before people start to flood the garage. Baekhyun’s loud chatter jolts him awake, and he stands up to hide the fact that he was asleep, stretching out his leg to alleviate the stiffness. He stops speaking as soon as he walks in, followed swiftly by Chanyeol, both of their mouths falling open in surprise.

“Is that..?” Baekhyun points at the bike. Kyungsoo nods. “Wow,” Baekhyun breathes, before realizing he is causing a backlog of people behind him, and getting out of the way. Kyungsoo can hardly stand the scrutiny, everyone staring at either him or his injury, or at the bike. Those who know are all gaping at it, and those that don’t are simply admiring it for what it is.

Yeri bounds in waving a map with a glowing circle marked on it.

“I found it!” She informs him, breathlessly, showing him the holomap and the route she’s already planned out to get there. It’s the quickest way there, and avoids some of the more dangerous areas, so they’ll be less likely to be stopped by any outlying gangs on their way there.

“Nice job,” He compliments, both surprised and proud of her. Clearly he’s been underestimating her skill- he had no idea where to even start, but she found it in just an afternoon. Yeri preens under the praise, and gets to work sending out the details to everyone, so they can all see where to go on their own maps. Kyungsoo half smiles. She’s growing up too fast.

“Are you really going to ride that?” Yixing asks, placing a hand on his shoulder reassuringly.

“I don’t have a choice.” He replies. Yixing nods, then turns to Wendy, crouching on the floor.

“How long ‘till it’s done?”

“Not too long, I think,” she replies, wiping her face and leaving a black streak across her forehead. “She should be ready as soon as I just—” she scowls, and jerks something inside the bike. It comes to life, gurgling then roaring, and she whoops. A smattering of applause sounds, and Wendy takes a mock bow, then gestures for Kyungsoo to take over.

“Go for it, boss,” she teases, so he does, with only a slight hesitation.

It feels smaller than he remembers. Of course it does, he’s grown a lot since he last rode this bike. But it still sounds the same, like she’s speaking to him. Yeri slides on behind him, with a mask she no doubt borrowed from Krystal, who has far too many.

“Everyone ready?” He calls out, cupping his mouth to make himself heard above the engine. Instead of replies, the roars of the other bikes being revved fills the space, and Kyungsoo smiles.

Time to go get Jongin back.

 

It’s raining as they leave, and it’s difficult to manage a different bike—with two wheels he has to be extra careful with turning well on the slippery terrain, but he manages somehow. Yeri doesn’t say much other than to give him occasional directions, but he can feel her energy and he finds himself relying on her a little bit.

The outskirts of Bedúfan come into view once again, and that familiar surge of fury returns. Jongin is in there, possibly tied up, probably alone and definitely hurt. When Kyungsoo gets angry, it’s like magma flowing inside him, and it lasts. Chanyeol’s outbursts, though very destructive, are usually over in a matter of minutes, whereas Kyungsoo’s ire can seem never ending. He will never forgive Leeteuk, not ever.

“Left here!” Yeri calls out, and Kyungsoo swerves. This is definitely different to the way they got here last time. A sneakier approach, rather than facing them head on. It goes against everything Kyungsoo stands for, but he’s not in good enough condition to fight Leeteuk so he relents and lets Yeri instruct him on where to go.

Bedúfan looks different in the dark, and Kyungsoo is scared that someone might fall into the water. It still smells awful here—some members cover their faces with scarves to block it out. Kyungsoo worries that they’re still far too ostentatious—more than thirty bikers travelling through a winding city in a train? It will be a wonder if they make it there without being ambushed.

“It’s nearby,” Yeri pats Kyungsoo’s thigh to make sure he can hear her, and points to something in the distance.

“I don’t see anything,” he squints, using his mask to zoom in on the canal, night vision illuminating very little. There’s a bridge but no signs of any gang.

“I think the entrance is  _under_ the bridge. We’re going to have to leave our bikes behind for now,” she breaks the news gently, knowing how he will feel at leaving them unattended.

“We’ll leave someone out here to guard them.” He dismounts his bike, and holds a hand up, hoping everyone can see him. He needs to be quiet now, so they don’t blow their cover. The tension in the air is so thick you could cut it with a knife as he explains the plan to Minseok and Yixing, so they can spread it to everyone else. Both of them will lead separate parts of the attack, one team branching off the right, the other to the left, and taking out as many people as possible. Taking them out the quickest way possible, and if that means killing them  _do it_. Meanwhile, he and Yeri will search for Jongin, using the inevitable battle as cover.

In order to get down there, they have to inch their way down a slope covered in slippery moss, and then walk along a precariously narrow walkway to the underside of the bridge. There must be another entrance, he thinks, and a separate place to store their bikes, because there’s no way anything on wheels is getting down here safely. Wiping his hands on his clothes, he continues to edge his way closer to the entrance, making sure everyone is following him and clutching at the wall to stop him from slipping.

Under the bridge is a well concealed, rotting door, covered in slime from the water. Yeri nods encouragingly, and Kyungsoo touches the door. It swings open easily. Immediately Kyungsoo knows something is wrong, but he limps inside anyway.

It’s dark. Too dark for a gang base, he thinks, even if it is underground. Nervous, he makes sure Yeri stays behind him, but pushes forward into the blackness. A light comes on a little way away from him.

“Well, I must say, I’m impressed.” Leeteuk says, uncrossing his legs and standing up. Kyungsoo backs away a little as he draws nearer, and almost falls into someone standing behind him. He hates having to look up at him. The rival leader checks his nails nonchalantly.

“I didn’t expect you to recover so fast, but you’re a tenacious little one, aren’t you? Just like your father.”

“Don’t talk about my father!” Kyungsoo hisses, voice full of loathing.

“Now, now,” Leeteuk raises one hand, shushing him as if he were a child. Kyungsoo squints at his silhouette suspiciously. Something is not right.

They expected this.

“Minseok!” He shouts, waiting for his response, but instead he hears a sharp cry, followed by the sound of something landing in the water.

Kyungsoo wishes he could pause time, because in the next few seconds too many things happen for him to keep track of. Yeri pushes him aside just before Leeteuk can freeze his face, and Breakdown members come crawling out of the woodwork, swarming them before anyone can get a grip on the fact that they were set up. They’re  _everywhere_ , even outside, and there are so  _many_ of them. His combat skills are still rock bottom after his fall and it’s all he can do to dodge some of the blows coming his way. Baekhyun and Chanyeol light up the room and expose all the corners, setting things and people ablaze instantly.

Yeri tugs him to the side and up a concealed corridor, slamming her hand into the face of someone that comes up behind them. Their skin turns black and green, falling off in chunks, and Kyungsoo feels ill just listening to the woman’s screams as she falls to her knees. Kyungsoo stares at his sister in horror. She just shrugs, her face a little pale, and nudges him onwards.

“I  _told_ you I was ready, didn’t I?”

He can't argue with that. Peeking around the corner, he spots Leeteuk rabidly fighting against Minseok, the air still and cold. Minseok spots him and gestures to _go_ , and Kyungsoo nods. Grabbing Yeri’s hand, he heads down the wide corridor that was filled with Playboy and Breakdown members. He slams a fist into the face of some asshole blocking their way before turning to Yeri and asking, “Where am I going?”

“Well, their base is an entirely underground system of tunnels. When I looked, there are too many rooms to count so…” Yeri smiles sheepishly. Kyungsoo rolls his eyes and grasps her wrist as he hurries down the hallway - as best as he can with his limp.

“Just means I have to open every damn door, huh?” Turning around, he looks for Victoria, hoping she could provide some sort of insight as to where Jongin would be. But she doesn’t seem to be anywhere nearby, and he doesn’t have the time to waste on betting on clairvoyance. Jongin could already be dead, for all they know, but he doubts that Leeteuk would waste this much manpower over protecting someone who’s dead and gone—or at least he hopes not. He’s banking on that fact.

Many Breakdown members try to attack them as Kyungsoo is busy opening multiple rusty doors and turning down winding, never ending hallways. But the moment their attacks come close, a Playboy member comes in to block them. It’s annoying, but he guesses Yixing or someone told them to keep close watch on their injured leader.

Kyungsoo spots a set of double doors at the end of the hallway. His bad leg aches now, sending twines of white hot pain up his nerve endings, and he's practically leaning all his weight on Yeri, but he pushes himself forward because he knows this has to be where Jongin is, especially since a female well-versed in earth magic is guarding the doors –Yuri. Kyungsoo knows her well. She’s Leeteuk’s younger sister; three years older than Kyungsoo himself, and he can remember when she would pull on Kyungsoo’s ear to annoy him when Leeteuk brought her over to make deals with Kyungsoo’s father.

Yuri is stronger than him, especially now with his leg. He can’t take her on in a fight now, not by himself.

She raises a brow at Kyungsoo, pushing off of the wall, her necklaces clinking as she moves forward. “Long time, no see, tiny Soo,” Yuri coos teasingly. She flexes her wrists and small fissures form in the concrete flooring. A warning.

Kyungsoo frowns at the old nickname, but he takes his stance and pulls Yeri behind him. She definitely can't fight Yuri. “Is Jongin in there?” he asks.

“Why don't you come find out?” And then Yuri lunges.

Kyungsoo pushes Yeri back and blocks Yuri’s punch with an arm. She's strong, her flexing abs visible due to her revealing crop top. He should be thankful that she can't use her earth magic to its fullest underground because Kyungsoo can feel his constitution weakening with every movement.

He swings his fist towards her in response, but Yuri catches it with a hand and—in a twisted move—kicks down on his bad leg. Kyungsoo hisses through his teeth, and a brutal wave of nausea has him breaking a sweat. Did she break it?

“Not so tough anymore, huh?” She laughs and throws him into the wall in his moment of weakness. Kyungsoo’s vision spins, but he manages to catch sight of Yeri running towards Yuri. She tries to hit her as well, but Yuri just as easily catches her wrist, and that's when the younger girl uses her magic, the skin on Yuri’s hand blackening.

“Fucking bitch!” She howls and shoves Yeri to the ground. She lands with an awful thud, her hair splaying out on the floor. Kyungsoo sees red, but he's not the only one as brightness erupts and an inferno turns swirls toward them. Chanyeol appears from the midst of the orange flames, Baekhyun on his heels. The latter helps Yeri to her feet, holding her face between their hands to check for any injuries. She's the gang’s younger sister just as much as Kyungsoo’s, all of them dote on her.

Kyungsoo regains his footing and limps over. His leg feels ten times worse now, but he has to move fast while Chanyeol is distracting Yuri.

“Jongin’s in there?” Baekhyun gestures to the double doors. They smile at Yeri, who will most likely get away with a nasty bruise, and she stands up, instantly moving to Kyungsoo’s side again with the same pep in her step as before.

“Yeah, are you gonna go help Chanyeol?” He asks in response.

“You know it.” Baekhyun winks before heading off to where Yuri is struggling to defend herself against Chanyeol's ruthless attacks. Kyungsoo can feel the temperature from here.

Much to Yeri’s delight, Kyungsoo slumps against her for support, and she draws one of her arms around him. “You did a good job,” he murmurs as they finally approach the doors Yuri was blocking. “Yuri’s just more experienced.”

Yeri grins brightly at him, the bruise on her cheek from falling to the floor already starting to show. “I know. Thank you, Kyungsoo.” She hugs her older brother for a moment and then reaches for the door. They exchange a look, and the gang leader nods once before Yeri throws open the door.

The room that greets them is large and is designed to be a bedroom. They see no one initially, but once they step inside and look to the right, Kyungsoo’s eyes land on Jongin, handcuffed to the metal headboard of a bed, battered and bruised, dark circles lining his eyes. His skin is ashen and he looks ill. Another man of small stature with dark hair is holding him with a hand around his wrist, and both of them are staring at the new arrivals with shock.

“That’s Ryeowook,” Yeri whispers, knowing Kyungsoo has difficulty remembering people. “He can suppress magic with touch. Be careful.”

Kyungsoo isn’t even listening, and in pure rage, he disregards his injury and darts forward, grabbing a shell-shocked Ryeowook, who obviously isn’t a fighter, and throwing him against the opposite wall. The other man collides with a dresser, his head hitting the corner before he collapses to the ground, unconscious. Leeteuk was stupid for only using Yuri as protection.

“Kyungsoo,” Jongin says quietly, eyes wide in astonishment as Kyungsoo seats himself on the bed and reaches for the metal handcuffs, snapping them out of lock with his magic. “I-I tried to teleport away, but they tied me up and Ryeowook—”

Jongin doesn’t get another word out as the older man pulls him into a tight embrace. Kyungsoo doesn’t really know what has come over him, but immense relief washes through him at the fact that Jongin isn’t dead. He’s safe and sound. Kyungsoo wasn’t too late.

Swallowing, the younger male hugs him back, a small smile playing at his lips as he snorts. “What happened to the stoic, unfeeling Kyungsoo?”

The Playboy leader clears his throat and pulls away, ducking his head. “You’re an important member of the gang. We couldn’t lose you,” he mumbles, trying to ignore Yeri’s bright, knowing grin from the other side of the room.

“Can you walk? We need to get you out of here,” Kyungsoo doesn’t even wait for him to answer before tugging him to his feet, forgetting about his leg in the process. He can’t take Jongin’s weight, and they tumble to the ground in a pained heap. Yeri swoops in to save the day, pulling them both up one by one, Kyungsoo leaning heavily on her.

“You can get reacquainted later, right now we have to  _move_.”

They both end up somewhat depending on Yeri; Kyungsoo because of his leg, and Jongin because of his imprisonment leaving him fatigued and dehydrated. The three move slowly and carefully out of the room, and find Baekhyun and Chanyeol still there. The Rostlina is resting against the wall with Chanyeol lying next to them, resting his head in Baekhyun’s lap as they comb their pretty fingers through his unruly hair. It’s not a surprising scene. Chanyeol tends to get too worked up, and only Baekhyun can calm him.

Yuri is lying on the ground, half of her upper body charred beyond recognition, but none of them show concern.

“Kyungsoo! Jongin!” Chanyeol instantly leaps up and runs to support Jongin, leaving Kyungsoo to cling to Yeri. Jongin is pale-faced and panting at this point. It’s obvious Breakdown didn’t bother to feed him or anything.

“We’re retreating. Get everyone out of here,” their leader states, trying not to let the strain show in his voice.

With a nod, Baekhyun focuses and starts to release glowing spores from their body, sending them floating throughout the space. It’s a universal sign to the Playboy members that the fight is over and the goal is accomplished. In addition, as they begin to walk back towards the entrance, Chanyeol gingerly cups a hot hand over one of Jongin’s ears before loudly yelling, “RETREAT!”

Many Breakdown members go on panicked offensive, trying to stop the Playboy members, but for the most part they retreat successfully, bursting out of that slimy door and racing back to where their bikes are, thankfully, still waiting. Yeri helps Kyungsoo onto his bike before running over to ride with Krystal back home, and Jongin weakly clambers onto the old fashioned machine behind Kyungsoo, breathing heavily as he rests his head on the older man’s shoulder. There’s a dull ache from his injuries, but Kyungsoo doesn’t tell Jongin to move.

Chanyeol stays behind to make sure everyone makes it out, and it proves useful as Leeteuk appears, battered from his battle with Minseok. He looks pissed and makes a mad dash for the door, but the Leuod Fai raises a hand and blasts an incandescent sea of flames towards him, swirling and forcing Leeteuk to use his ice magic to protect himself. When his attention is diverted, Chanyeol turns and runs toward his bike, jumping on and quickly revving it.

Kyungsoo spares one last glance to make sure mostly everyone is there before leading the gang and speeding off into the distance, the sound of crackling fire behind them.


	7. 007

As he sluggishly awakens, Kyungsoo recalls twisting memories of the night before. He and Jongin had almost collapsed at the doorway of the club, passing out as soon as they were deposited on beds in the infirmary. That’s not where they are now, however. Now both of them are lying on a mattress on the floor, in the corner of the room, while other patients with more urgent wounds take the beds. Everything hurts. Even worse than before. Yixing was right; he shouldn’t have moved so soon, but he doesn’t regret it. Not even a little bit.

He groans, stirring a little and attracting the attention of Yixing, who was checking over someone else nearby.

“Stay down. I’m not having you slowing down your recovery any more than you have to,” Yixing orders, no nonsense tone provoking Kyungsoo’s stubborn ire. “You can glare all you like. I’m not letting you go gallivanting around and reopening stitches I haven’t had the chance to repair yet. Stay. Down.”

“Fine,” Kyungsoo can’t fight against him when he’s being like this, so he lies back and bites his lip as Yixing checks over his bandages. Even he can’t heal everything at once, so there will be a lot of minor injuries for a while. He looks haggard in a way that can only be caused by draining his magic, his eyes sunken into his head and skin pale as snow.

“You seem ok, but don’t move anyway.” Yixing sighs, poking and prodding at the swollen skin over his knee with gloved hands. There’s a patch of the metallic material peeking through the red, shiny flesh, and it looks so grotesque that Kyungsoo has to look away. He’d avoided looking at it before too. Hopefully that will get better and heal at some point; otherwise he will suffer in the future.

“One second,” Yixing purses his lips and darts away into his room. Kyungsoo watches him go with a growing sense of dread. He returns with a dark green spray bottle, its yellow label a warning signal to Kyungsoo.

“No, Yixing, I’m sure I can do without that,” he hurries to cover the wound with his trouser leg. Yixing folds his arms and almost laughs.

“What, you can fight off Leeteuk but you can’t handle a bit of old fashioned disinfectant?”

“I don’t need it,” he insists, covering the tender area with his hand.

“Don’t be such a baby,” he rolls his eyes, “honestly, you’d think you were twelve years old again. Remember when you crashed your bike the first time? You were just as big of a baby then as you are now. Let me disinfect the wound, you idiot.” Yixing wrestles his arm away, and Kyungsoo grunts, feeling humiliated. The healer is, as always, surprisingly strong, and it doesn’t take long before Kyungsoo is pinned back, and Yixing is getting ready to spray him.

“Hey, Kyungsoo. Huh.” Jongin’s husky voice makes them both freeze in their little fight and look at him. He’s bleary eyed, and obviously having trouble focusing on them so soon after waking up, but when he does, his eyebrows almost join in the middle. Kyungsoo pushes Yixing away swiftly, attempting to maintain some level of dignity.

“What’s going on?” Jongin asks, trying to sit up. Yixing pushes his shoulders back down.

“Lay back down, you both need rest. And your little savior here was just getting squeamish over getting his wound disinfected.”

“For real?” Jongin’s eyes crinkle up, and he wheezes out a laugh. Kyungsoo fumes.

“Fuckin’ _fine_ then! Do it!” He reveals the wound angrily, and clutches the sheets in preparation for the burning sensation.  Without even a warning, Yixing sprays him liberally with a foul smelling liquid. Kyungsoo jerks at the searing sensation, feeling as if his skin is being licked by millions of tiny flames.

“ _Aahh!_ ”

“Stop whining,” Yixing rolls his eyes again, before setting the bottle to the side. “There; done. That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“Fuck you,” Kyungsoo glowers at a spot on the wall as Yixing tends to Jongin, checking him over thoroughly as well. Yixing declares him to be on the way to recovery too, as long as neither of them do anything too stupid. Before he leaves, he ruffles Kyungsoo’s hair, the ultimate insult. Once he’s gone, they both stay silent for a while, Kyungsoo glancing around the room to assess the damage. There’s so many people in here, it gives him a new perspective of just how many people there are under his command.

It occurs to him then that he and Jongin have never really shared a bed before. Not like this anyway, not just lying quietly, arms lightly touching. All the times that they’d been in a bed together before now, it had been heated and over too quickly, besides, what was the point in all that post coital snuggling bullcrap anyway? But as he shifts, and their sleeves brush past each other, he wonders if that’s really how he feels. Pushing those thoughts aside, he tries to relax a little. Mission accomplished, right? Jongin is safe so there’s nothing to worry about now.

“Just so you know, your intimidating image is permanently ruined,” Jongin says, softly so that Kyungsoo is the only one who could possibly hear him. The words make his blood boil, but he doesn’t reply. Jongin exhales, and wriggles a bit on the mattress, making it dip and bounce before he’s comfortable.

“What happened? I just remember you bursting in, and dragging me out. That really happened, huh?” Something about his tone makes all the steam rush out of Kyungsoo, and he looks at Jongin speculatively.

“Yeah, that really happened.”

“How did you find me?”

“Yeri did. I don’t know how exactly.” Kyungsoo shrugs, and winces at the dull tugs of pain that shoot through various parts of his body. He feels bad for Yixing, sure, but he isn’t feeling the effects of fighting, so he feels worse for himself—and all the other injured members too, of course.

“I’ll have to thank her,” Jongin manages to croak out.

“Yeah,”

“You too,” the ex-fugitive nudges him. “Thank you.”

“Uh. You’re welcome.” Kyungsoo winces. Awkward. He hadn’t expected more than grunt in recognition, because that’s all he would have given, out of stubborn pride. Jongin seems to sense this, and changes the subject quickly.

“What happened after the race, by the way? All I remember is that Leeteuk won, and then some asshole of his did something to knock me out.”

“He went and almost lost his leg,” Yixing interjects suddenly, making them both look up in surprise. He happened to be walking by, and now he’s stood above him with his arms crossed, glaring down at Kyungsoo disapprovingly, “Now’s he’s got a prosthetic replacement. He’ll be fine, but he caused a _bit_ of a panic when he got back missing almost his entire knee joint. Normally it takes weeks for a prosthetic like this to acclimatize.”

“Ouch,” Jongin sympathizes, “and—and you came to get to get me anyway?”

“Yeah, he’s an idiot.”

“Thank you, Yixing,” Kyungsoo grits out through his teeth, feeling the burn of embarrassment in his cheeks. “I’m sure you have other people that need tending to..?”

“Mhm,” Yixing narrows his eyes at him but leaves them alone. Kyungsoo turns his head so he’s facing away from Jongin, not wanting to see his face after being talked down to like that. Sometimes talking with Yixing makes him feel so terribly young, even though there’s only a few years between them.

“He’s...Yixing is kind of like your brother, huh?”  Kyungsoo looks at him, wondering what he’s thinking to look so sad like that.

“I guess,” Kyungsoo replies. He’s never really thought about it quite like that, since Yeri is his only real sibling, but Yixing _is_ family, he supposes.

“Sehun and Tao used to be like that to me,” he confesses darkly. _Ah_. His brothers now want him dead. Kyungsoo’s hand twitches, wanting to comfort him a little but not knowing how. He settles for patting his wrist.

“All the more reason to keep working on proving you innocent, I guess. Maybe they’ll be nicer to you when they realize they’re wrong.”

Jongin doesn’t respond.

 

By the next day, Kyungsoo is going out of his mind with boredom and is already sitting up even though Yixing told him not to. Jongin is propped up next to him too, half asleep still. He already looks better than yesterday, less gaunt and his skin is returning to its healthy golden hue even under the bad lighting of the underground room.

The leader is itching to get back on his feet and be in control again and is in need of a smoke. His fingers tap impatiently against the mattress as he watches Yixing take as long as possible to get to him. Warmth presses his hand down, stopping him from moving, and he looks down to see Jongin’s hand covering his. He stares at it for a moment, wondering if he should remove it, then tries to catch Jongin’s eye, but he refuses to look. Interesting. Well, it’s fine for now, he muses.

Kyungsoo stretches out his leg, hissing a little at the ache. Jongin’s fingers twitch. Kyungsoo ignores the burst of contentment that floods his chest at the thought of him being concerned.

Yeri bursts in then, heading straight for the pair of them and smiling warmly as she deposits her bag at the edge of the mattress. Kyungsoo is glad to see her but extracts his hand from under Jongin’s anyway, stuck in his secretive ways even when he’s pretty sure she knows there’s something going on between them. He doesn’t want her to jump to any conclusions just yet.

“Yixing said I could tend to you, so hold still.” Once again Kyungsoo is left in awe at his sister as she merrily lines up a syringe and injects him without giving him the chance to object. She holds his leg down firmly as the syringe empties into him.

“Hey!” Kyungsoo squawks. “What was that?”

“It’s to aid the bonding of the prosthetic faster. You should have had it yesterday but we were so busy, y’know?” She explains, disposing of the needle and pulling out a few creams to spread on the raw skin. He hopes one of them is a painkiller.

“Yeah, I get it,” he shifts uncomfortably. “When can I get up?”

“You can start walking today, as long as you don’t overdo it. I will be watching you, so don’t think you can get away with anything,” she waggles a finger at him, then points at Jongin. “And you, tell him not to do anything stupid.”

“I told him not to race, and now look. I don’t think telling him to be sensible is much use.” Jongin laughs, and they share a look that irritates him.

“Ok, I get it,” Kyungsoo gripes. “I need to get more used to walking on this thing, right? Help me up.” He holds out a hand for Yeri, and she yanks him upright. He just about manages to stifle a groan at putting his full weight on his knee and balances on his other leg. Somehow it’s even worse that last time. Yeri is watching him carefully for any signs that he can’t handle, so he tries to smile at her. It comes out more of a grimace.

“I’ll be fine,” he promises. She doesn’t look convinced as he’s still holding her hand in order not to fall.

“You need a cane.” Kyungsoo opens his mouth to object, but she shushes him, “Just for a few days! Please.”

“Ok, fine.” He sighs and leans against the wall to wait while she finds him something to use. She returns with a small scruffy looking thing, made of some kind of polished metal and with a beaten up handle. Crouching down a little, she places the bottom on the ground, then extends it to the right height for him, and fixes it in place.

“There,” she tilts her head to tell him to test it out. He leans on it—it feels sturdy enough, even if he doesn’t really intend to use it that much.

“Thanks,” Kyungsoo grins at her.

“What about me?” Jongin reminds them of his presence and waves sheepishly at Yeri.

“I think Yixing wants you to stay in here for another day. I don’t know why, but I’m not going to go against him. Sorry, looks like you’re stuck here for the time being.”

“It’s ok. Nothing you can do. Kyungsoo is the boss after all, I guess he needs to be up as quick as possible.” He smiles wanly.

“Oh yeah, about that!” Yeri interrupts, “Minseok wanted me to send you to him once you were up. He’s in the bar, go see what he wants.”

“Alright.” Yeri watches him go fondly. He tries not to use the cane at first, but she knows he’ll be relying on it soon enough. Shaking her head, she packs her things into her bag and gets ready to go help some other patients.

“Yeri,” Jongin catches her attention just before she leaves, and she crouches again to be level with him. “Thanks. Kyungsoo said it was you that tracked me down. I’m grateful.” He looks nervous, she notes. But even so, he is very handsome. She understands why Kyungsoo is infatuated with him. She would be, if she were him.

“Well, I didn’t have much of a choice,” she sighs, and he frowns questioningly. “What Kyungsoo wants, Kyungsoo gets.” _And he wants you more than anything._

 

Kyungsoo never imagined that adjusting to a prosthetic like this would be so painful, but maybe he’s just a special case. It was a particularly violent injury. But goddamn does it hurt. He has to take a break on the way up to see Minseok, leaning against the wall to keep him upright. By the time he reaches the top, he’s sweating buckets, but he’s determined to get there. Not too far now until he can sit down.

As soon as he bursts through the doors, both Minseok and Baekhyun rush to help him, and Chanyeol stands up, watching him with his hands half raised as if to reach out in case he falls. He bats them all away and makes his way over to the seat by himself.

“So,” he begins, folding his hands on top of the table and inwardly sighing at the relief, “What’s happening?”

“Um,” Minseok starts, still seeming worried. Kyungsoo gives him a look. “The smaller gangs have heard about your, um, _you know_ , and now they’re getting rowdy. One called Warrior is demanding territory gain, and another one, Monster, they reckon they can take you down while you in bad condition.”

“Ok,” Kyungsoo flounders for a moment. Surely, even like this, he’s strong enough to take down a few teenagers? But with his leg taking him out of action, there really isn’t that much he can do.

“I think the best thing we can do is pick one and make an example out of them. Monster, for example.”

“Are you sure that’s the best idea?” Baekhyun asks. It’s not the best idea, but unless they want to face the consequences of ignoring these threats further down the line, there’s nothing else they can do.

“It’s the only option,” Kyungsoo settles the disagreement. “Tomorrow, we hunt them down and destroy them. Show them what happens if they mess with us.”

“Alright, I’m coming with you,” Chanyeol pipes up, barely recovered yet already wanting to exercise his strength.

“Of course,” Kyungsoo nods. The other three agree to join him too, and they plan out the details before departing.

“What about Breakdown?” It’s Baekhyun who points this out. “They aren’t going to be happy about us getting away with their prize.”

“That piece of shit is just going to have to deal. He knew we were coming, he could have stopped us, but he didn’t,” Kyungsoo retorts, his hand curling into fists. Just thinking of that asshole sets his mood ablaze. If he comes anywhere near him, Kyungsoo vows to bury him under a ton of earth, so deep that no one will ever find him.

“But what if he tries to get him back? We don’t have the resources for a war!” They stress, frowning.

“Yeah, but that won’t be for a while, if it happens at all. Breakdown suffered losses too,” Chanyeol butts in, sitting back in his chair and flicking his fringe to the side, “and he doesn’t know where we’re based.”

“He could find out, though,” Baekhyun insists, “we found out where they were easily enough.”

“Even if they do, we can take them,” the Leuod Fai argues, confident in his combat skill. “When we’re on our own turf we’re unbeatable!” He leans in closer to his lover, and Kyungsoo pinches the bridge of his nose. Minseok shakes his head and sighs, folding his arms to wait for them to stop.

Baekhyun’s face twists. “You never _think—_!”

“Enough!” Kyungsoo stands up to cut them off, “I’m not in the mood for your relationship issues! Last time I checked, we had at least one link to the police force, if we send them a message about Breakdown they’ll keep an eye out for anyone trying to enter Ordure.” Both of them look a little contrite after Kyungsoo’s outburst but not enough to apologize.

“Good idea,” Minseok agrees, “even if they can’t stop them coming in, that way we’d at least get more warning.”

“Yeah,” Baekhyun nods, refusing to meet their boss’s eyes.

“Alright,” Kyungsoo winces as he sits down. “Is that everything?”

“Everything urgent, yes,” Minseok confirms. “We can deal with the other issues after we pay our little visit to Monster.”

“Good.” Kyungsoo grits his teeth and gets up, using his cane for support. After getting a painkiller from his sister, he’ll get some rest for tomorrow, but in his own room where he’ll be able to sleep better without being distracted every few seconds by memories of hot skin and hungry kisses. Alone, in other words.

 

The gang leader refused to accept any help getting to his destination last night, and he’ll be damned if he does today. He’s just going to the garage, to talk to Wendy to talk about a vehicle he can use safely. He’s in an even worse mood because he knows she will make him use a car instead of his dad’s bike, maybe he even won’t be allowed to drive the car either. His plans for today consist of talking to Wendy about vehicles, then visiting the infirmary again to see how people are doing down there.

The door swings open and, apart from a distracted greeting, Wendy mostly ignores him. He’s grateful for that. She’s one of the few that aren’t coddling him unnecessarily. He makes his way over to where she’s half hidden, and waits for her to come out. She’s covered in grime and filth, as usual, hair tied messily in a half bun, wispy strands trailing from it.

“What’s up?” She asks, not even bothering to greet him at face level.

“I need a vehicle.”

“No,” she deadpans, before pushing herself back under the car she’s messing with. Reacting quickly, Kyungsoo uses his new cane to stop her. As she slides back out again, she glares at Kyungsoo. “I was told not to let you have a bike. I’m not letting you have one, got that?”

“What about a car?”

“Hmm, I suppose I can let you have a car. Your usual one?” Kyungsoo nods. “Sure. You know where the keys are, you can sort it out yourself. Now can I get back to finishing this?” She complains, pursing her lips.

“Yeah,” Kyungsoo agrees, pleasantly surprised that he didn’t have to work harder at persuading her. Now to check on Jongin—and everyone else.

 

A little after midday finds Kyungsoo in the passenger seat of the car with Minseok driving. Chanyeol, Baekhyun, Jinri and Soojung bring up the rear on bikes. They make for an interesting entourage.

Kyungsoo sits stock still, preparing himself for the ache of walking. He’s decided that using a cane would draw too much attention to his injury for this to work, and he’s banking on them expecting him to be unable to fight. He’ll do his best to conceal any pain and appear as commanding as possible. These little upstarts won't last long.

Rain drops dot the windscreen, but it’s only a light drizzle at the moment.

The area they have claimed is not big, and certainly not well-to-do. Some of the areas Playboy has jurisdiction over are hardly well cared for, but this place is truly a shithole. Their base is supposedly in a warehouse, one that used to be owned by a company who dispatched toiletries but was abandoned a long time ago. Kyungsoo doubts they even have enough people to put a full warehouse to full use.

When they reach the warehouse, five or six young men are stood outside waiting. Kyungsoo wonders if that’s all of them or just the select few they think have a chance of taking them on. Most of them look pretty muscular, but the thinnest one is stood to the front, an arrogant sneer on his face. All of them seem young and inexperienced. Kyungsoo guesses that they are local kids who banded together more for something to do, and took it too far. At least they all dress the part, Kyungsoo thinks, getting out of the car and striding over the dirty asphalt. It hurts, but he can handle it.

The leader of Playboy doesn’t have to check to know that the others are gathering behind him in a similar formation as Monster are. Kyungsoo looks down at them, despite being a few inches shorter. He knows he radiates an aura of power, and he looks into every one of their opponents eyes. None of them back down or look away, even if they look scared, so he has to give them credit for that.

“So,” he begins, speaking quietly, but with well-practiced authority, “you think you can take on Playboy, huh?”

“Yeah, we thought Ordure could do with a better underground leader than a cripple,” the skinny one sneers. He seems to be their leader. Kyungsoo raises an eyebrow. Chanyeol can’t hold back a laugh, despite Baekhyun elbowing him. They’re practically kids. He almost feels sorry for them.

“You’re hardly in a position to be making threats,”

“How about we try this one on one?” The leader steps forward, “If I win, I want in on territory.”

“Sure, why not? If I win, though, you and your little group of friends will stop pestering me. I’m a busy man,” Kyungsoo makes it sound like this trip was a mere inconvenience, rather than a necessity. He can see it hits a nerve—the veins in the youth’s neck are throbbing and grey silver lines appearing on the surface of his skin, running up his arms.

“Remember, _you_ asked for this,” Kyungsoo warns, taking a step forward as well, and the leader of Monster—there’s no point asking names, they’ll be dealt with swiftly enough—takes up a fighting stance.

Kyungsoo listens to the earth, and closes his eyes. He knows it the moment his opponent starts to move, and flicks his hand out, moving the ground beneath him.  It’s a trick he saw in a cartoon once, an old one. There’s a thud in front of him, and a snort behind him. When he opens his eyes, the leader is getting up from where he’d fallen, a vicious snarl on his face. He brushes himself off angrily, and Kyungsoo notes that the silver marks aren’t on his skin but _underneath_. He hasn’t seen anything like this before, but it seems as though he’s turned his bones to _metal_. As long as he doesn’t actually reach him, that shouldn’t matter.

Kyungsoo closes his eyes again and braces himself, ready to react to what his opponent will try next. Predictably, he lunges into a run. It’s all too easy to trip him up again, and not having to move much to do so is gratifying.

The leader of Monster’s rage is building, and his face burning red. He probably didn’t expect to not even be able to get a punch in. Kyungsoo wouldn’t be at all surprised if he tries to charge him again. He narrows his eyes and watches him carefully, deciding this time to let him get maybe halfway. His opponent runs at him again, and Kyungsoo tenses. He has to get the timing perfect, or this won’t work.

Upturning his fist, he spreads his fingers like a flower blooming, and a section of earth opens just as the youth’s foot lands in it. Then, like a venus flytrap, he snaps them closed again, trapping his foot in a mound of solid rock. His momentum makes him fall again, and this time he hits the ground with a grunt. None of his entourage move to help him, though they look unsettled. He doesn’t blame them; they most likely aren’t strong enough to take him on anyway, but he knows if this was going the other way around he would have to tell his members _not_ to interfere.

Kyungsoo smiles—it will be even easier than he’d expected from here on out. He lifts both hands and small rocks rise into the air, following his movements gracefully. Like bullets, they fly at the young man’s leg, sticking there and building up until he’s covered with solid rock all the way up to knee.

“What!?” He shouts, struggling to break free and clawing at it, but it’s no use. Kyungsoo traps his other foot, immobilizing him. He screams, not willing to face the futility of breaking solid rock with his bare hands. It doesn’t feel good to win so quickly—there wasn’t even a fight—but taking care of outlying gangs quickly is for the better.

“Jiyong!” One of them calls out, but a look silences him instantly.

Hiding his limp, Kyungsoo moves towards the encased man who is still trying to break the rock away from his body, eyes wild with fear. Kyungsoo leans towards him, and lowers his voice.

“Let me put this in a way you will understand: even on my worst day, I will be better than you at your best. Clear?” He pauses to give him time to nod frantically before leering at him. “I think we can all agree that you’ve lost, can’t we?”

“Yes, yes! Please set me free!” He begs. Kyungsoo pretends to think about it, dramatically walking a circle around him, with his fingers in an L shape underneath his chin, admiring his work like an artist might.  He hears both Chanyeol and Baekhyun stifling laughter this time.

“I think I might just leave you like this. Make sure the message _really sinks in_ , y’know?” He steps back, then looks to the other members. “You guys might want to go find a hammer or something.” They squabble for a moment, before two of them run off

“Fuck you!” The youth growls, unable to do anything else. Kyungsoo tuts, shaking his head, then clenches his fist. The youth screams in agony as the rocks crush him.

“I’d watch your language, if I were you.” He advises. Then he turns his back and heads towards his gang, all of them have similar expression of satisfaction, though Chanyeol’s looks the most arrogant. He nods at his leader, and he smirks back. A jerk of his head signals their departure.

Kyungsoo manages to hold it together until they’re out of sight, and it’s only when Minseok is driving away that he allows himself to grimace at the sharp, stabbing sensations that are finally abating now he’s not putting weight on it. Almost inaudibly, he groans. Pulling back his trouser leg reveals that the wound is weeping slightly.

“I’m impressed,” Minseok comments, “I wasn’t sure you’d have it in you today. But you annihilated him.”

“It was easier than even I expected,” Kyungsoo agrees, relieved, “and I’m glad, because if it _had_ come to a fistfight I don’t know how long I would’ve lasted.”  

“It’s a good thing you have such precise control with your magic.”

“You’re right. Maybe we should spar with just our magic some time,” he teases. Minseok takes his eyes off the road long enough to make a face at him, and Kyungsoo laughs.

 

The infirmary is always busy, and Jongin doesn’t mind people-watching, so there was always some kind of conversation to eavesdrop on if he was sick of wallowing in his own thoughts, but now that he’s been officially discharged he finds himself chasing the same thought patterns around in circles.

Kyungsoo had visited earlier, before Yixing spoke to him, but it wasn’t to check up on him. Even so, it was nice to see him from afar, from the other side of the room. He looked tired and strained, probably from overexerting himself after everything that’s happened to him. No normal person would be back on their feet so soon, certainly not seeking out fights, which is what he overheard someone say after he visited. He rubs his face with his hands. There’s a twist of anxiety in his gut that he’s sure won’t go away until he knows for sure he’s safe. It’s only a small gang, he knows that, but Kyungsoo is in bad condition right now, and even he could be taken by surprise.

The wall is cold against his back, and the open window is letting in a draft, but he doesn’t have the motivation to move right now. It’s getting dark too and beginning to rain hard, droplets racing down the window pane. This room used to belong to Baekhyun and is empty of anything that might be called personal. All four walls are a dirty shade of white, and there’s only a single spare shirt in the worn down dresser. It’s the only furniture in the room, besides the bed, and is probably an antique, but it wouldn’t sell for much in the condition it’s in right now.

This room is also right next door to Kyungsoo’s, which has caused him no end of grief. Knowing that he’s lying on the other side of the wall beside him each night, so close yet so far away from the place they shared so many experiences together—his hand slips beneath his sweatpants most nights. Being in the same bed as him in the infirmary was torture too, having to restrain himself from rolling over and taking the prickly man into his arms, feeling the heat radiating off him from only an inch or so away. He shakes his head, dispelling this pointless longing from his mind.

If this were any day before, he would be messing around with Sehun and Tao, maybe practicing fighting, racing, or bothering Yifan and Luhan with silly things. Tears prick at his eyes; he misses them all so much. Sehun has grown a lot since he last saw him, and so has Tao, and he missed all of it, because they hate him.

Sometimes he feels like he’s being torn apart because while he loves Kyungsoo, Transformer—or _El Dorado_ , as they’re known now—were his family. Joonmyeon was the cool uncle, and he has adored him as a kid. Seeing him so angry as he raved about him and tried to kill Kyungsoo…it hurt more that he could put into words.

Jongin’s head is starting to hurt. With a huff, he lets himself fall back onto the mattress, bouncing slightly. He stretches his hands out above him and wonders again how anyone could think him capable of murdering the two men that were like fathers to him.

Two sharp raps on his door followed by his name being shouted tear him from his musing.

“Jongin!” He calls again, “you in there?”

“Kyungsoo?” He’s back safe! The ex-fugitive almost jumps to his feet to let the man in, immediately a little happier, though he doesn’t let it show on his face. He opens the door and peers around. He catches Kyungsoo glancing at his mouth before he speaks.

“We’re having a meeting in the bar. Yixing told me you were probably up here now.” Jongin nods, and opens the door to leave. He’s not here just to see him, like he always hoped, but it still pleases him that it’s Kyungsoo who came to get him, even though he’s injured. Without any further words, Kyungsoo begins walking down the corridor, leaning heavily on his cane. Jongin wishes he could support him, maybe allow him to use him instead of the stick, but Kyungsoo would hate it.

“What’s the meeting for?” He asks instead, keeping toe to toe with him.

“The bit you’ll be there for is to discuss is about finding the real murderer.”

“Oh. How was your day?” He inquires, trying to get at least a few minutes of conversation out of him

“Nothing special,” he replies. Jongin side eyes him, knowing that he’s lying.

“So you didn’t take on a challenging gang?”

“They were nothing special,” he rephrases, and Jongin nods. He was worrying for nothing then.

Jongin holds the door open for him, earning a disgruntled look. Maybe today will be the day they can finally reveal their alibi. Jongin has no such inhibitions as Kyungsoo does, but then he also isn’t the leader of a gang. But surely, after all the drama there’s been lately, one more revelation wouldn’t shock everyone? He has a feeling a lot of people suspect the truth anyway, and Kyungsoo is just being stubborn. Like always.

Everyone is seated around the usual table, with a few extra chairs pulled up so everyone can sit down. Chanyeol waves at him energetically, and everyone smiles. These people will never replace his family, but he’s glad he’s found friends here, particularly in the strongest magic user around.

There’s only two empty seats, and they’re right next to each other. Jongin ends up between Kyungsoo and Yeri, who smirks at him coyly, sending a shiver down Jongin’s spine. She knows far more than she lets on, that one, and Kyungsoo is blind to her deviousness.  

“Alright, let’s begin,” the leader sighs, clearly tired. Jongin imagines putting his hand on his knee, for support, but he doesn’t think it would be received very well.

“You all know that Jongin is innocent of the murder of Luhan and Yifan, but we need evidence. Joonmyeon won’t believe shit until we find some. Ideas?” He looks around the table, but no one says anything. Jongin doesn’t know where to begin either.

“Do we know that Jongin is innocent?” The question comes from Yeri. Jongin can see Kyungsoo’s jaw clench. “All we have is your word for it, Jongin, you can’t blame us for doubting.”

“You have my word too,” Kyungsoo says stiffy.

“What good is your word, unless you were with him? Were you with Jongin that night, Kyungsoo?” Kyungsoo closes his eyes tilts his head a little. When he opens them again, Jongin is the first person he looks at, and there’s vulnerability in his eyes. He’s scared.

“We were together that night,” Jongin speaks, pretending he doesn’t see the widening of Kyungsoo’s eyes, “during the time of the murder. He knows it couldn’t have been me.”

“No one is surprised,” Minseok snorts, “everyone has seen the way you two act around each other,”

“Yeah, you two are ridiculous,” Baekhyun teases,

“Maybe if you let Kyungsoo fuck you he’d relax—”

“Shut up,” the leader doesn’t even raise his voice, but he commands attention, and Chanyeol stops mid-sentence. Baekhyun just smirks, and Chanyeol follows their lead.

“Aww, look, he’s gone red,” Minseok points out from his place beside him, prepared for the punch to the stomach that comes his way. It’s true; his cheeks are a little pink, and Jongin stores this image away in his mind.

He hadn’t realized that _everyone_ knew about them, or that he was so obvious about his attraction to him either. But Kyungsoo never really showed any signs of being attracted to him in return, so he wonders what he’s missing. Now that their ‘secret’ is out in the open, might they be able to stop hiding everything? His mouth waters at the thought of pulling Kyungsoo into one of their rooms, pressing him up against a wall and kissing him. He licks his lips, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to lead for long, and he’d be quickly pushed onto the bed and—Kyungsoo clears his throat.

“Back to the topic at hand,” he pulls out a computer, small, blue and glitching like it hasn’t been updated in a while and places it on the table in front of him so he can record things, “ideas for finding the real murderer.”

Once again, Jongin is clueless, looking around the small group, hopeful that they might come up with something.

“You could visit the crime scene?” Minseok suggests, shrugging, “I know it’s been a long time, but you never know, it could help.” Kyungsoo raises his eyebrows and writes it down using the holo-keypad.

“Was it reported as a homicide? There might be forensic reports if it was,” Jinri speaks up. Usually quiet, Jongin isn’t certain he’s ever heard her voice before now.

“It was,” Kyungsoo hums, “If we can get in with the police, we could get our hands on those reports...that could change everything.” Jongin smiles gratefully at her as Kyungsoo adds that to their list, and she smiles back shyly.

“Anything else?” _Silence_. “Ok, then. We can figure out what to do about the forensic records tomorrow, but for now I think we’re sorted. The club will open soon anyway, so we better get out of here.”

 

Taemin stares incredulously at the odd pair standing in the police station, lips smacking as he chews his gum in pure, bland awe. Of all people he figured to show up at the late evening, it certainly wasn’t acclaimed murderer of the century, Kim Jongin, and Playboy leader, Do Kyungsoo. “You want _what_?”

Jongin leans over the desk. “Just let us see the files and evidence for the murder of Kris and Luhan,” he repeats, eyes pleading. Even without all the glitz and glamour he used to sport, he still looks incredibly handsome, and Taemin inwardly winces. “For an old friend,” Jongin adds with a smile, and Kyungsoo slides a wad of cash onto the counter.

With an expression of distaste, the police officer stands up and stuffs the cash into the pocket of his slacks. “Fuck you,” he spits and unhooks his keys from his belt. “You’re lucky that I’m the only officer here right now. Jonghyun and the others would’ve had you two in cuffs the moment you walked in for all the trouble you’ve caused lately.”

He leads them down a hallway towards the back of the station and to a door at the end. Taemin’s keys jingle as he unlocks it with a grimace, and it creaks as he opens it, reaching over to turn on the lights and stepping out of the way to let them inside. “This is where all the files are kept. We still write everything down because we’re poor as shit with no funding. It’s in order of date—well,” he scratches at his chin, “we get lazy sometimes. But from back then, it should be in the right place.”

Jongin and Kyungsoo step inside. It’s a relatively small room, filled only with tall file cabinets and a couple of boxes. It’s stuffy and dusty, and Jongin rubs his nose with a frown.

“The others will be coming back from a scuffle with a baby gang anytime soon, and don’t expect me to stop them from knowing you’re here,” Taemin smiles devilishly, “so get your asses out of here soon, yeah?” With nothing else to say and a grimace replacing his smile, Taemin shuts the door, leaving them in the room.

Jongin isn’t surprised when Kyungsoo instantly turns to him and opens his mouth. “What the hell was that?”

“My ex; it’s a long story from forever ago,” the younger man replies simply, moving towards one of the file cabinets. “I say we find the file and take it with us rather than read it here.”

The information is off-putting, but Kyungsoo stores his questions inside for another day as they have more pressing matters to attend to. He’s still using the cane that Yeri forced onto him, and he moves to look at another file cabinet, noticing they went to the trouble of placing a label with the dates of the files on the outside. “They’re labeled. Just find the one with the right time.”

“Yeah, it’s this one right here,” Jongin replies as he digs through one of the drawers of a cabinet in the back.

“You know the date, right?” Kyungsoo asks, making sure as he stands to hover over Jongin’s shoulder.

“How could I forget?” the taller male mumbles.

The Playboy leader feels a sting of empathy in his veins along with something else he can’t put a name to, so he just stands back, silent, as Jongin searches through the multiple drawers. Eventually, he finds the very folder with the information they need. Jongin bites his lip as he stares at it, knowing it holds some answers for them. Just to take a quick glimpse, he opens it to the first page inside, eyes widening at the amount of detail it goes into initially.

“C’mon, we can read it back at the club,” Kyungsoo urges, beginning to hear a bit of a commotion at the door. Jongin shuts the folder and the file cabinet and stands up with a nod, knowing they still have one more place to go to before heading back home. Reaching out, he grasps Kyungsoo’s upper arm and the world around them warps and freezes in his view before they’re standing in an old, empty garage.

It’s not just any garage though. It’s Transformer’s old base.

Jongin lets go of Kyungsoo’s arm and sucks in a deep breath as he looks around. He hasn’t been here in years, but it’s where he grew up. He can remember being five years old and sitting on a teenage Kris’s shoulders as the man discussed bike maintenance with Junmyeon, who was nothing but a mechanic at the time. He can recall running up the steps in the corner and playing tag with Tao and Sehun throughout the halls before they’d get scolded by Luhan. And then, of course, he can’t forget that night—the innocent argument that led to Jongin storming out to seek Kyungsoo, only to come back in the early morning to pointing fingers and the mutilated bodies of Luhan and Kris.

“Do you know where it happened?” Kyungsoo asks softly, not completely insensitive to how Jongin must be feeling.

“In here,” Jongin murmurs, voice thick with emotion, and Kyungsoo notices how he reaches up to wipe at one of his eyes. “But the bloodstains are long gone by now, I’m sure.”

It was pretty much pointless to come here, but Jongin wanted to come back anyways, just to face his demons.

“How was it when you got back? That night, I mean,” Kyungsoo kicks a rock on the concrete flooring, eyeing an old oil stain. “Did anyone...act suspicious?”

“Not that I noticed. I was too busy being shouted out and trying to defend myself to really look closely,” Jongin shrugs with a sigh. “It was pretty chaotic. Their bodies, or what was _left_ , were still there, and everyone was in such panic that when I came back alone they started to point fingers. When I couldn’t give an alibi, the police showed up, and I left before anyone could stop me. I didn’t stop running.”

Kyungsoo knows it must have been rough for Jongin. He had to deal with the brutal and sudden death of his father figures as well as suffer the blame all at once. He grew up never being alone, and then he was suddenly outcasted and forced to live on his own for nearly three years. It must have been so difficult for him.

When Jongin turns away from him and wipes at his eyes again, sniffling a little, Kyungsoo clears his throat, feeling a bit awkward and unsure as to what to do. Should he comfort him? Biting his lip, he settles for laying a hand on his shoulder in mild comfort. “Ready to go?”

“Yeah,”

 

Back at the club, the usual gang is seated around one of the tables, pages and pages of the evidence folder stolen from the police station spread out between them. As suspected, the reports are very in-depth, but as Kyungsoo reads through the statements by Junmyeon and some other members of El Dorado, none of them include them witnessing anything. A majority of the members of Transformer that night had been at a drag race, and when they had come back in the early morning, Kris and Luhan were dead with no one in sight. But with Jongin being suspiciously missing, all reports mentioned Jongin coming back late and not supplying an alibi.

“All of this is the same shit we already know,” Kyungsoo grumbles, slapping the stack of witness reports down.

“Wait, wait,” Baekhyun holds up a finger, “I’ve got the autopsy reports right here.” They slide the pages to the middle of the table for everyone to see, only Jongin wincing at the photographs clipped to it and looking away. They’re mostly red, but you can see bits of skin and white bone peeking out. It must have been horrific to work on this case when it started, even though it probably didn’t stay open long since it’s a gang death. The police usually only care about gang members when they’re causing trouble.

“If you read here,” the Rostlina points to a sentence on the report. “It says that there were abrasions on the bones, and they think they were cut with some sort of saw. Therefore, this probably wasn’t done by someone using their magic.”

“I don’t understand,” Kyungsoo deadpans, looking at Baekhyun for further explanation.

“It couldn’t have been me,” Jongin speaks up. “Everyone seems to think that if it was me, I teleported with only a part of them, but I wouldn’t have left abrasions.” Standing up, he walks over to the empty bar and searches for a moment before finding an orange. The Playboy members watch in momentary confusion as Jongin suddenly disappears, leaving half of the orange and its juice to plop to the ground, and then reappears next to Chanyeol, holding the other half in his hand.

“See? No abrasions,” Jongin places the orange on the table.

“It’s a clean cut,” Chanyeol confirms, stroking the edge of the peel with the tip of his finger. He looks up at Jongin and gives him a thumbs up, embarrassing him a little bit.

“I think that’s enough evidence to prove it isn’t _you_ , but let’s keep reading to see if we can’t find anything else,” Kyungsoo suggests, reaching for another unread page of the folder and earning groans from the others, who continue to read their share with frowns.

“Are we even going to find anything? What if there’s nothing else to find?” Chanyeol grouses, combing over one of the pages Kyungsoo things he’s already read.

“Well, it’s worth a try, right?” He grumbles, diligently reading through another page. Chanyeol may well be right, but even so, if they miss something important it could ruin everything. Even though he is resolved in finding answers, Kyungsoo finds his mind wandering a bit; the next step he supposes, is getting the El Dorado leader to actually listen to what they have to say, which is going to be a huge pain in the ass. Joonmyeon is so obstinate that even if he hears he’ll be so blinded by his hate for Jongin that he won’t really _listen_. Kyungsoo sighs loudly, shaking his head to wake himself up before diving back into the words on the screen in front of him.  It’s going to be a long night.


	8. 008

“What is it?” Joonmyeon asks the moment Tao enters his room. Irene is glued to his side on the couch, as usual and is languidly twirling a strand of silky blonde hair around her finger.

“There’s been a message - from Playboy,” the younger man spits the last word out. The leader instantly straightens up, fire in his eyes.

“What did it say?” He demands.

After the last battle between the two gangs, El Dorado has been on edge, begging for revenge as they lost many dear members - either to the police or to death himself. Both sides suffered, but Joonmyeon thinks that Playboy left triumphant. And especially once they heard about Kyungsoo’s loss and injury from Breakdown, they’ve been itching to catch Kyungsoo when he starts moving around again.

“He said he wants to _talk_ with us and meet us on the outskirts of Ordure tonight.” Tao wrinkles his nose, like he’s already calling bullshit on the message. “It has to be some kind of scam. He’s trying to play nice.”

“Either that or he’s going to try and sway us to lay off of Jongin.” Joonmyeon’s expression darkens. “Why the hell would he ever side with _Jongin_? It makes no sense.”

“Maybe he’s using Jongin to get to you, lure you in,” Irene muses.

“Actually…” Tao speaks up again with a little bit of hesitance. “I’ve heard rumors - rumors that he and Jongin fucked behind our backs before the incident.”

Joonmyeon grits his teeth, stomach twisting. He can’t believe it. Jongin’s been a snake in their group even from the beginning? Maybe he thought he would kill Kris and Luhan just so he could run into Kyungsoo’s arms and then take down the rest of El Dorado with his help. The rage and hurt hidden within Joonmyeon multiplies just at the realization, and he stands up, his chair squeaking unpleasantly as he does so.

“Tell him we’ll be there, and that I’m gonna fucking kill him,” Joonmyeon growls, and Tao moves out with a nod. He stands up as well, Irene following him, and walks out of his room and into the hallway.

Judging by the shouts and the sounds of hurried movement, Tao has already begun to let everyone know of tonight’s event. It doesn’t take long for the El Dorado gang to get suited up for another fight with their rivals. The need for vengeance is strong enough that everyone is already piled in the underground garage, motorcycles gathered. All of the members look at Joonmyeon as he enters, Irene hugging his arm.

“Are you sure you want to go?” Joonmyeon looks at his girlfriend as she follows him to his bike. “You got pretty roughened up before.”

Irene scowls at him as she climbs onto the bike behind him, fair arms hugging him around his waist. “I’m not weak. I’ll kill that bitch this time. Don’t worry.”

 

Watching her brother limping as he walks towards the center of the abandoned parking lot is hard for Yeri. He’s always tried so hard to take care of her, even when her mother wouldn’t let him see her, but she wishes he would accept help more easily. He’s too stubborn for his own good, always has been. He won’t even lean on Jongin, even though he’s right there next to him, holding out an arm for him.

She follows close behind him, keeping an eye on him in case he stumbles and falls, but he’s fine. It’s when they start fighting - because a fight is inevitable when Kyungsoo and Joonmyeon are involved - that she’s going to _really_ worry. Yeri and Krystal share a look; both of them are worried about Kyungsoo. In fact, everyone is. Every last Playboy member here is sending their leader nervous glances, afraid that his left leg might not hold out on him with the pressure he’s surely about to put it under. Yixing especially looks concerned, hovering nearby but not saying anything.

“Kyungsoo?” Yeri asks quietly. “Please, for yours and everyone’s sake, try to _not_ instigate a fight.”

“I don’t think I can make that promise,” Kyungsoo grunts.

Yeri sighs forlornly, and sidles closer to Krystal. She takes one look at Kyungsoo, his face drawn in obvious pain, and sighs. She watches as he pulls out a cigarette and lights it, sucking in a long drag and breathing out a cloud of smoke. It relaxes him a little, she notes with relief, but at the same time she worries for him because he’s almost doubled the amount that he smokes each day, to deal with the constant pain. At least now, maybe, he’ll be less likely to deliberately provoke Joonmyeon, but she knows that’s probably too much to ask for.

“All we can do is help him if he gets into trouble later. He won’t thank us for it, but no one will let him die. You can count on that,” Krystal reassures, nudging her with her elbow. The muscles around her eyes are tight; she’s almost as tense as Jongin is, which is a few notches more than everyone else. Yeri worries about her as well.

She and that bitch Irene have unfinished business, and there’s going to be no stopping Krystal when it comes down to it. Yeri takes Krystal’s hand and squeezes, reminding her that she’ll be there for her. Krystal smiles tersely back, before scanning the road again.

None of El Dorado have arrived yet, but they are early. All of their bikes- or cars, in Kyungsoo’s case- are parked little ways away, to keep them safe just in case - that had been Song Qian’s idea.

It’s just a matter of waiting, now, until their adversaries show up.

“I’m not saying this will come to a fight, but if it does…” Krystal trails off, looking at Yeri warily, “are you gonna be ok?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. Yixing and my brother taught me how to handle myself in a fight.”

“If you say so.” Krystal purses her lips. “I still think you’re too young to be here, but I guess I keep seeing little Yeri, who always wanted me to braid her hair for her. You’ve grown up too much; you need to stop.”

“I’m eighteen, Krys, I can handle myself perfectly fine.” She grins, wondering if that’s entirely the truth. “Can you? I know what you’re planning.”

“Hm?” Krystal raises one eyebrow, feigning innocence. Yeri sighs, and bites her lip. After the events of last time, she had made a point of reading up on everything about _her_ that she could get her hands on. There wasn’t much - Irene didn’t seem to have very much information about her childhood, just that she grew up outside of Ordure, but the main thing she had been looking for was a weakness.

“Her eyes. Her power comes from her eyes,” She murmurs, looking at the ground. There’s a pause, before Krystal speaks again, her voice hoarse and full of emotion.

“Thanks.” She says.

Almost an hour later, the sound of motors alerts them to El Dorado’s imminent arrival. The tension is suddenly palpable again, and everyone stands to full attention. Yeri squints into the distance, fighting the urge to hide behind Krystal. She has to be strong, like she was when they rescued Jongin.

With Joonmyeon in the lead, his dumb goggles over his face, El Dorado fan out into the car park, their tires screeching as they stop. Joonmyeon kicks out his stand and lifts his goggles, scouring the crowd for Jongin. Once he locks onto him, it’s like he’s a different person: the rage takes hold of him, morphing his face into an ugly mask of hatred. If it weren’t for the lightning faced guy next to him, holding onto his arm, he might have simply attacked Jongin then and there. Almost everyone on Joonmyeon’s side of the divide is staring at Jongin with either shock or hatred. Particularly a boy with wings and his friend.

“Joonmyeon, what a pleasure to see you again,” Kyungsoo calls out across the divide, his usual sardonic tone not doing him any favors. Yeri bites her lip, wishing she could tell him to not sound like an asshole. Just this once.

“ _Shut the fuck up_.” Joonmyeon barks. “I have no patience for your bullshit. Not when you are standing next to parent-killing trash like that...that _thing_.” He points roughly at Jongin, spittle flying from his mouth. Yeri flinches. Irene places a hand on his lower back, but he shakes her off - that can’t be a good sign. If even she can’t help him stay calm, they’re all doomed.

“This is Jongin, he isn’t a _thing_ ,” Kyungsoo snarls. Jongin touches his hand, and Kyungsoo reigns himself in. “I’m sure you’re wondering why I asked you to come here.”

“I’m sure it’s got something to do with that cocksucking piece of _shit_.” Joonmyeon spits. “So, what is it? You finally going to come clean? You two were fucking behind everyone’s backs, right?”

“As much as I hate the fact that you’ve probably pictured us fucking, that actually bears some relevance.” Kyungsoo says through gritted teeth.

“What?” Joonmyeon’s eyes are unhinged, a level of rage that Yeri has never seen on anyone. He’s her enemy, sure, but she can’t help but wonder if he’s ok - she’s a healer after all. There’s no way that this kind of wrath is normal. Could he be suffering from PTSD, perhaps?

“Jongin is innocent.” Kyungsoo says, plain and simple. “He didn’t kill Luhan or Yifan.” Yeri surveys the faces of the rest of El Dorado: none of them look remotely convinced. Kyungsoo is going to have to really sell it if he wants to convince them, any of them, that what he’s saying is true. Especially their leader.

“I have proof.” Kyungsoo reaches into the inner pocket of his leather jacket and pulls out some rolled up sheets of paper. The police files. Joonmyeon watches warily. “These are the police files from the case; they analyzed the scene, and it says that the bones had abrasions on them. That someone used a saw to hack them up. It wasn’t Jongin; his teleportation means that anything he left behind would have a smoo—”

“Shut. The _Fuck_. Up,” Joonmyeon growls, face turning red.

Kyungsoo shuts up.

“Do you think that I would believe this pack of _lies_? Did you think that this weak, pathetic pile of excuses would be enough to fool me? _Did you?!_ ” Yeri can see veins bulging from his forehead and neck, and she reaches for Krystal. No one reaches for Joonmyeon.

There’s only one thing that would truly prove beyond doubt that Jongin is innocent now, but with the state that Joonmyeon is in now, Yeri doesn’t think he would take it very well. She crosses her fingers and hopes more than anything that her brother keeps his mouth shut. Otherwise this will be a bloodbath.

A shift in Kyungsoo’s posture, defiant and angry, makes her heart sink. She can’t see his face from this angle, but she knows what he must look like: smug and insufferable. His arm slips around Jongin’s waist provocatively.

“The night that they were murdered.” Kyungsoo shouts, “Jongin was nowhere near your skanky base.”

Yeri didn’t think that Joonmyeon could look angrier, but she had been wrong. She closes her eyes as Kyungsoo delivers the final blow.

“He was in my bed, that night.”

Gasps come from both El Dorado and Playboy’s side - not everyone knew about Kyungsoo and Jongin’s _relationship_.

Joonmyeon screams, raising his fists as moisture gathers from the air around them. In a last-ditch attempt to prevent a fight, the lightning faced guy grabs for Joonmyeon’s wrist but is thrown to the ground. Spiraling his arm, the moisture elongates until it’s almost invisible, forming a razor thin whip.

Kyungsoo sees it coming before anyone else even makes a move, and he tackles Jongin to the ground and half buries them in asphalt. Even so, his jacket is split open, and a thin red welt blooms across his back.

Yeri urges him silently to get up, and fast, because Joonmyeon is running towards him, preparing for a second blow. Kyungsoo raises a rocky barrier for defense.

“Playboy!” He yells, “What the fuck are you waiting for?!”

 

As soon as things start to get ugly, Baekhyun dives for Chanyeol. After an argument like that, especially one that Chanyeol isn’t allowed to argue in, he’s likely to be barely containing himself. Latching on to his hand, Baekhyun twines their fingers together. This is the way they normally fight, but Baekhyun has a feeling that this particular battle is not going to be normal. They both back up, even as Chanyeol’s skin is starting to glow orange from within. Baekhyun has honestly never seen Joonmyeon like this, or Kyungsoo for that matter. No, this is a whole new level of anger - Joonmyeon is always looking for the kill, but there’s something in his eyes this time, something that tells them that this time he might be losing it.

A tug on their hand brings them back to their own situation: they’re both surrounded. Baekhyun doesn’t see anyone they recognize, so there’s no way of preparing themselves for any particular kind of attack. Luckily, Chanyeol goes on the offense first. Eyes blazing fiery red, he casts out a jettison of liquid flame, directing it with his hands at anyone nearby. Only a few are caught in the spray, their clothes and hair catching fire, the rest are quick enough to jump out of the way.

One girl, who looks too fragile to be fighting, catches their eye, but Baekhyun knows better than to underestimate her. She moves with frightening speed, so fast that Baekhyun can barely keep up with where she is at any one moment, but they see two sword hilts peeking out over her shoulders. If she knows how to use them, then she is a major threat. Another girl stands resolutely, seeming not to be affected by anything that could be causing her harm - something flies straight through her and suddenly they understand why; she must have ghost like abilities, able to alter her very being.

“Baekhyun!” Chanyeol calls, his intensity wavering in the short time that Baekhyun is scoping out their immediate opponents.

“Sorry!” They shout back over the roar of the fire and fighting, gripping his hand tighter and pushing their energy through their connection to help Chanyeol charge his abilities.

This shouldn’t feel so new to them - both Baekhyun and Chanyeol have been in plenty of life or death situations, many of them of their own doing, but they’ve never failed before. And Baekhyun isn’t about to let that record change now.

Chanyeol isn’t one to reuse a move once people have already seen it, and he’s been practicing something new. Baekhyun can sense that now is the best time to use it, and answers Chanyeol’s question without waiting for him to voice it out loud.

“Do it!” They shout.

Chanyeol nods, and crouches low next to them, planting his hands on the ground, his long fingers spread on the tarmac. Baekhyun can almost feel the pulse of energy that radiates from him, ricocheting through the earth. Baekhyun wonders if their boss can feel it too, when the ground cracks beneath them, making way for orange rivulets of magma, radiating deadly heat. As more cracks appear, more lava flows from them, overflowing and spilling across the ground. The landscape is treacherous, and Chanyeol has barely started. This time, Baekhyun is sure that there will be no rain, so everyone will be able to see the Leuod Fai’s true power.

But they can’t spend all this time marveling at their partner’s incredible strength, not when they are supposed to be acting as his protector. Sparing a little of their own energy, they illuminate their skin like a neon light, temporarily blinding the young Yonian woman who was charging towards them. The technique won’t last long however, and the one downside of sharing magic with Chanyeol is that it requires physical contact for it to work. They can’t let go of Chanyeol, so they’re already at a disadvantage for hand to hand combat. If they move too much, they could jerk Chanyeol out of his already precarious concentration which could spell disaster for everyone, not just El Dorado. So when the Yonian woman, built almost entirely of muscle, recovers, they brace for whatever will come next. One handed, they block the first punch, but they’re too slow to counter her second, and she hits them on the side of their head, dazing them long enough to leave their guard down. She punches their stomach, winding them and making them stumble backwards a little. Knowing that they have to protect Chanyeol at all costs, Baekhyun lashes out, catching their heel on the woman’s hip, but she barely seems to notice. Wasting no time, she grapples their hair, and yanks them to the side, intending to throw them onto the floor to get to Chanyeol. Baekhyun fights back, latching onto her hand and trying to peel her away. Its hurts: Baekhyun’s hair is not the same as a human’s. As a rostlina, they have more in common with a plant than any other organic being, and their hair is just as delicate as the filaments of a flower.

“Aagh!” They wince, struggling, their scalp burning as their hair is uprooted. The Yonian’s face is monstrous, as if she lives for violence. Minseok, a gentle giant in comparison, is nothing like her.

They kick out at her knee over and over, hoping to break her balance, or at least _distract_ her, but she seems unstoppable, and with Chanyeol solely focused on creating volcanoes all around them, they’re pinned down. Baekhyun has never considered themself a weak person, but right now they feel pretty damn helpless.

“Let _go_ of me!” Baekhyun grits out, screaming when the woman knees them in the abdomen. Their cry seems to rouse Chanyeol, and he springs out of his crouch with fury. His hand is still glowing from the inside, red hot and angry, and his touch literally burns the Yonian woman. Her skin smokes under his palm, black and acrid. She screeches, and Baekhyun spins out of the way, covering Chanyeol’s back. When she falls to the ground in a charred heap, Chanyeol calls out over the mess around them,

“They should be self-sustaining for now.”

“So we should—”

“—Go kick some _ass!_ ” Chanyeol finishes their sentence, smiling his toothy, manic smile. Baekhyun grins back, squeezing his hand.

Together, they take off across the molten landscape, able to withstand the heat better than most of the other combatants. When Chanyeol slips, Baekhyun helps him up, and when Baekhyun stumbles, Chanyeol pulls them along. From a distance, Chanyeol is able to throw a spray of liquid fire at El Dorado members, setting their skin ablaze. They don’t pause to watch them fall to the ground in agony, instead moving onto their next victims.

Something whizzes past them, leaving a breeze in its wake. They are both instantly on their guard, though it doesn’t help at all as it passes by again in a blur, closer this time. Baekhyun squints, forming a familiar back-to-back position with Chanyeol at their rear and bending their knees. It must be the girl he saw earlier, the lightning speed girl. They don’t know her name, but her name hardly matters. All that’s important is that she is incapacitated as quickly as possible.

They don’t even hear her coming. She is so fast they only know when she’s gone.

“Gah!” Baekhyun screams when a slash appears on their chest after she flies by for the third time.

“Baekhyun!” Chanyeol pulls their arm, concerned.

“I’m fine! Keep your eyes peeled!” They shout back, scanning their surroundings - Kyungsoo is still on his feet, at least - but they can’t see anything coming.

Before Baekhyun registers the pain, they see it. And when they realize what just happened, they begin to scream not just in pain but _horror_. Their right arm lies in a puddle of magma by his feet, cut off just above the elbow and already burning.

That’s when the pain kicks in. Baekhyun falls to their knees, howling and clutching the oozing stump of their arm, breaking the connection with Chanyeol. When he realizes what’s going on, Chanyeol begins to fly into one of his rages. With a monstrous roar, he turns around, standing protectively in front of Baekhyun. They can only watch in agony and terror while Chanyeol spouts black smoke, his clothes igniting and falling to ash around him. Waves of fire flow from him, surrounding them both and making it impossible to be reached by anyone.

“Chanyeol, it’s fine!” Baekhyun cries out, knowing that this kind of inferno could be dangerous to their friends as well, “Chanyeol! Please! _Listen_ to me!” It’s no use, however: Chanyeol is past the point of understanding words. But something has to be done.

Baekhyun launches themself at their partner, wrapping their one good arm around his waist and forcing their face into Chanyeol’s line of vision. His eyes are luminous, the heat inside him reaching throughout his body - it makes it almost unbearable to stand this close. Almost.

“Chanyeol!” They call his name over and over again, “Chanyeol, it’s ok. It will grow back. I’m cool like that, remember?” Baekhyun lets go of Chanyeol’s waist and cups his cheek, feeling off kilter with just one arm for balance.

There’s not even a flicker of recognition in his eyes. Frowning, Baekhyun slaps him. Gently at first, but once they get a reaction, they do it again a little harder. Chanyeol’s eyebrows twitch.

“Please, Chanyeol!” They beg, “Stop!”

Chanyeol’s eyelids flutter closed, and when they open next he seems lucid.

“Baekhyun? Your arm.” Chanyeol asks, a tear leaking over his cheek.

“I’m going to be ok.” Baekhyun insists, ignoring the frothing, acid-like pain centered around their wound to the best of their ability. “We just...need to concentrate on everything else right now,”

“Alright,” Chanyeol agrees, uncertain and naked. He takes Baekhyun’s hand. “Is this ok?” He asks, “I don’t want you to be defenseless.”

“I’ll be ok. I’ve still got my feet.” Baekhyun forces a smile out and wiggles a foot out for comedic effect, and Chanyeol smiles back but doesn’t seem convinced.

“Look out!” Chanyeol pushes them aside, using some instinctive protection reflex to get Baekhyun out of the way as the fleet-footed girl flashes past them once more. “She still hasn’t given up.” Chanyeol, growls, eyes flashing dangerously, “I’m going to incinerate her.”

 

Krystal steps over a trail of magma, eyes focused on her prize: the pristine Irene. She’d had her eye on her since the beginning, sick to the stomach at the sight of her too-lovely face. She’s never hated anyone this much before, not even the first guy that abused her. Her feelings must show, as El Dorado members have been clearing out of her way.

Kyungsoo’s little sister is right behind her, ready to fight with her when they reach Irene.

“Remember, don’t look at her eyes.” Yeri reminds her again.

Krystal doesn’t like that she’s standing there so calmly, waiting for Krystal to come to her, but that’s ok. When she gets there, she will rip out her eyeballs, so she can never hypnotize anyone ever again. Her manicured fingers twitch.

“Well, well, well,” Irene says, inspecting her fingernails as though her boyfriend isn’t going insane just a few meters away. Her eyes flick upwards, and Krystal reacts on instinct, averting her gaze. It makes her feel submissive, and she doesn’t like it. Not at all.

“Couldn’t get enough of me last time, could you? I knew you’d be back for more, you _whore_.” She says, breezily. Krystal sees red.

“Krystal, wait!” Yeri tries to stop her but misses her arm.

Lunging for the twisted mockery of a woman, Krystal reaches out, fully intending to tear her apart but is stopped in her tracks by a heavy blow to her head, causing her vision to white out for a second. She reels, recovering as quick as she can, with her head throbbing. The inside of her mouth is bleeding too, and she spits a glob onto the ground. Looming beside her is a muscular woman - a yonian. Like Minseok, but not half human. She’s probably twice as strong as he is.

“Thanks Amber, you’re a doll.” Irene says, shifting out of her infuriatingly casual position and sinking into a fighting stance. “You take care of the other one, I can deal with this little slut on my own.”

“Of course, Irene.” Amber nods, turning on Yeri. Krystal apologizes silently to the girl, and to Kyungsoo, but she can’t deal with both Irene and a yonian at once. Yeri is on her own for the time being. She grits her teeth.

Krystal’s magic is radiation manipulation, and it is a double-edged sword sometimes. It’s very difficult to control in its most basic form, and even harder when she pulls it together to form plasma. But right now, the adrenaline surging through her has her focusing on her target and only her, tunnel vision so strong that someone could land a plane behind her, and she wouldn’t notice.

Her eyes are probably already glowing as she stares her adversary down, stalking close enough that she could stretch out her arm and wrap her fingers around her neck. But she doesn’t. She wants Irene to suffer, for everyone she’s hurt the way she hurt Krystal. Someone with magic like hers can’t be innocent, and if she’s used it for that once then she must have used it for that before. She’s a sociopath. She makes Krystal sick.

Wriggling her fingers, Krystal bends her knees, one foot in front of the other with her arms raised- a challenge. Let no one say that Krystal is unfair when she instigates a fight. Irene doesn’t move a muscle, waiting for Krystal to make the first strike, so that she can block and redirect it, skewing the odds to her favor. Infuriated with her too-cool demeanor, Krystal takes the bait, flinging a wild punch in her direction, aiming at bruising her delicate face. Irene swiftly pushes her wrist away, but Krystal had foreseen that move and follows it up with a second punch, targeting her chest and winding her.

“Fucking whore.” Irene hisses, hooking her leg around Krystal’s and tossing her to the floor. Krystal grabs a handful of her hair, tugging her down with her and rolling on top of her. Irene struggles to break free, screaming when her wrists are pinned to the ground and bucking upwards futilely to dislodge her. Krystal is reminded of the last time they fought; it had ended similarly. Krystal beating the woman into a pulp. It had honestly astounded her that she survived, after the beating she gave her.

Krystal doesn’t want this to go the same way as last time.

Instead of throwing punches, like she desperately wants to, Krystal gathers her energy, her whole body thrumming with it. Seething, Krystal spits in Irene’s face, blood covering her cheeks. She still doesn’t meet her eyes, staring instead at her over-glossed mouth.

“You are the worst kind of person.” She hisses, forcing her down again when she tries to fight back, crying out pathetically. “I’d be doing the world a favor by killing you, but I have something better in mind, you fucking _bitch_.”

If she wanted to, she could probably kill everyone here without them even realizing until it’s too late. But for now, her only target is the El Dorado member in front of her, looking as pristine and unrealistic as her nightmares. She never gets her hands dirty, if she can help it.

The tips of Krystal’s fingers begin to glow, the faint light spreading across her hands as the radiation, insidious and sickly, pours out from her skin in waves, all of them focused on Irene. At first nothing happens, but Krystal is nothing if not resilient. Like a spider waiting for its poison to set in, Krystal waits patiently for the symptoms of extreme radiation poisoning to show.

It’s not a pretty sight: Irene’s pale face swells up, reddening in splotches, her eyes bulging out of their sockets as she coughs and splutters. She turns her head to the side and vomits, her body convulsing as each wave of Krystal’s magic courses through her. The stench is terrible, but Krystal presses on, not satisfied until she’s unconscious or dead; whichever comes first.

She screams, jerking uncontrollably. Blood fills Irene’s eyes, and nose, flowing from every orifice in a grotesque mask. She chokes on it mid-scream, gurgling as it mixes with the vomit, curdling in her mouth. It’s a disgusting, repugnant way to die, but befitting of such a person.

“I bet you hypnotized Joonmyeon. There’s no way he would like you otherwise,” she whispers, as the light fades from Irene’s eyes. She’s too far gone to use her powers now, too close to death to summon the energy.

Krystal smiles vindictively. “He certainly wouldn’t like you anymore, would he?” She runs one finger across her spongy, pock-marked cheek, smearing the blood. Irene tries to say something, but it’s unintelligible.

“What’s that?” Krystal mocks, “Cat got your tongue? You know, I think I actually like you better this way but…there’s just _one_ thing missing…” She trails off, looking her once-perfect face up and down. “Ah, yes.”

She forces one last wave of radiation out of her, the pressure buzzing in her chest until Irene’s eyes burst and she lies still.

Her once lovely face is now a freak how, barely even recognizable as human. Bleeding holes where her eyes should be, on her swollen face, covered in her own fluids.

Suddenly the reality of what she’s just done comes crashing down on her, and Krystal scrambles to her feet, clutching her mouth as she gags. Is she dead? She might be. Krystal looks away, sick to her stomach.

A scream from behind her makes Krystal turn around, ready for a second assailant. She gasps. Yeri lies on the pavement, face black and blue and blood trickling from the side of her mouth as the Yonian stamps on her stomach over and over again.

“Yeri!” She screeches, blindly charging forward and jumping onto her, arms encircling the Yonian’s neck and squeezing as tight as she can. “Get off her!” She shrieks, using her weight to tip her backwards. Yeri coughs pathetically, shifting. Krystal is just glad she’s alive. The Yonian steps forward, looking as though to kick the girl on the ground, to finish what she started.

“Don’t touch her!” She uses her sharp nails to her advantage, scratching the alien woman’s face viciously, screaming bloody murder.

The Yonian, Amber, reaches behind her head and grasps Krystal’s arms, throwing her over and slamming her into the asphalt. Krystal is dazed for a few moments too long, and soon she’s suffering the same fate as Yeri was, a rain of heavy blows landing in her middle, breaking ribs and crushing her internal organs. Each blow is excruciating, worse than anything she’s ever felt before. If this is the end, then she’s glad she finished Irene before this woman finishes her. Metallic liquid fills her mouth, but she can’t find the breath to scream.

An inhuman wail has her eyes flying wide open, the constant pain dulling to a constant blanket of agony rather than the incessant strikes.

Yeri, _somehow_ standing again, is gripping onto the Yonian’s arm with all the strength she can muster, her face set in a determined frown. The skin beneath her hand turns black and green, chucks falling away and flaking off onto the ground below, but the Yonian can’t shake her off, no matter what she tries as her muscles atrophy. The limb falls limp as gangrene spreads up her arm and across her shoulders, crawling up her neck. The El Dorado member’s eyes, wide with terror, stare at the dying skin as it spreads across her body beyond her control. She stumbles backwards, tripping over a raised fissure and falling into a pool of Chanyeol’s magma.

Krystal watches with blurry vision as Yeri brings the powerhouse down with nothing more than a touch of her hand, eyes shut so she doesn’t have to watch her flesh disintegrate and burn away. She can’t close her ears, however, so she still has to suffer through her tortured screams.

Amber twitches, her face, the only part of her body that escaped the lava, sunken in and grotesque after Yeri is finished with her. The rest of her is a mess of burning, rotten flesh.

“Thank you.” Krystal wheezes, glad that her life isn’t over just yet, though every intake of breath hurts more than everything she’s experienced thus far. A droplet of blood trickles from the corner of her mouth, and nose. With Yeri right beside her, she could be easily healed, at least partially, but as she’s in the same condition, she doesn’t think that’s happening any time soon.

Krystal closes her eyes, feeling herself slipping into unconsciousness. The sky is hazy and the noises of the fight nearby are fading. She barely registers the touch of Yeri’s hand on her own.

“Krystal? Yeri?” A worried voice cuts through the pain, “I saw what happened. Guys, please don’t give up, you have to stay awake!” It’s Song Qian. Krystal’s eyelashes flutter, fighting to keep them open like she wants. Cool fingers caress her cheek, and down her neck, pressing in to check her pulse. She lifts up Krystal’s shirt, and covers her mouth at what she sees there. If it looks half as bad as it feels, it must look pretty damn bad. Song Qian gingerly prods Krystal’s belly, provoking a broken whine from the injured girl.

“Your stomach has gone all hard and black; I don’t know what to do.” Song Qian frets, pale faced, “I’m not a healer, but it looks like you’re bleeding heavily internally. Should I move you?”

“No.” Yeri croaks, “Find Yixing.”

“Got it.” Song Qian nods, already gone before Krystal can say anything. She tries her best to stay awake, but in the end, succumbs to the promise of painlessness in sleep.

 

Song Qian rushes towards the spot she last saw Yixing, wiping away the tears in her eyes. Why is it always Krystal who ends up so hurt? She should be able to see this coming and _help_! Clairvoyance was always such a difficult magic; it’s vague and indefinite, and not always possible to control which premonitions occur. People often look to her for guidance, but there is only so much she can do.

Clenching her fists, she ducks around an El Dorado member before they trample her, and stops before Yixing, engaged in combat with a thin, blue woman, with huge teeth and quite possibly venomous teeth. Body mods, maybe? She doesn’t seem to notice her.

“Yixing!” She has to shout to be heard over the alien’s roaring, “Krystal and Yeri are hurt! _Bad_! They need your help!”

“Where?” Yixing doesn’t look away for her to point, trying to fend off the El Dorado member, whose fast attacks are too swift for Yixing to break his concentration. Song Qian focuses, timing her kick just right to send their opponent flying. Yixing doesn’t even stop to say thank you, sprinting immediately to heal the two girls laying prone on the ground. With the El Dorado member on the ground too, Song Qian takes this opportunity to finish her off, pulling her pistol from its holster, and shooting a bullet through her blue forehead. If only she’d been quick enough to help Krystal and Yeri, but she’d had her hands full with another El Dorado member.

The alien’s blood splatters the asphalt, a gruesome starburst, and Song Qian remembers the days before the feud. Back then Playboy and El Dorado, or Transformer as it had been back then, were simply rival biking groups, who only raced to solve territorial disputes. There had been…. A _little_ less bloodshed back then. It certainly hadn’t been so upfront as this; carefully disguised ‘accidents’ during a race, or sabotaged bikes. _Those were the days_ , Song Qian thinks.

“Victoria!” Someone calls out, instantly bringing her to attention: she looks around for the danger, and just about manages to dodge a kick that had been aimed at her face. A tall, dark haired boy stands before her, eyes jaded and mouth twisted into a line of aggression. He looks young, too young to be fighting, but Song Qian holds up her gun anyway. Kyungsoo had been only fifteen or so when he started fighting, and Chanyeol even younger. This boy could easily be a fighting prodigy, and she needs to focus. She’s a fucking _mixologist_ not a martial artist, without her firearm she’s not worth a damn out here.

Someone bumps into her back, and Song Qian swivels, ready to fire.

“It’s me!” Minseok reassures her. “These two kids are a tag team, I think they practice together. They’re fast.” The half Yonian murmurs low, only for Song Qian to hear. So, there’s two of them. Song Qian focuses her eyes on the young boy in front of her, nodding. He’s backed off a fair distance. She won’t hesitate to shoot him if he moves, but bullets are expensive, and she doesn’t want to waste them. She also doesn’t want to kill a child, no matter whether they are an El Dorado member or not. She has _some_ morals.

She only has two magazines with her, and she’s used most of the first one up, so that leaves her with eleven shots left. If this kid is fast, then at this range, there’s a good chance she might miss. She doesn’t practice marksmanship in her own, and usually stays at the club during altercations like this; the gun is there to finish the job. She stares down the barrel, her arms already shaking, and her fingers clammy. It’s a stalemate for now.

Song Qian keeps her eyes trained on the dark-haired boy, taking in every minute twitch that might give her an idea of when he’s going to attack. His eyes are locked on her in the same fashion, flashing darkly. Does he have magic? If so, she has no idea what she’s up against. If she was relaxed, then she could try using her clairvoyance to predict what moves he might make, but she’s so high strung right now that there’s no way she could, and if she shuts her eyes for just a second then he will be on her.

Behind her, she can hear the sounds of fighting, but it’s not Minseok’s voice that’s in distress, so she isn’t too worried about him. He can take care of himself.

The instant before the boy moves, she knows where he’s going to go, the images coming to her in flashes. On instinct, she fires, the explosion seeming to make time stop as the bullet hits the boy’s shoulder. His shirt darkens around the impact point, and he reaches up to clutch at the wound, hand coming away red. He looks shocked. Good. He shouldn’t underestimate her.

Song Qian flexes her finger, ready to pull the trigger again. Her arms are shaking a lot now; she’s not used to holding it out like this for long and it’s obvious. The El Dorado member narrows his eyes at her, trying to figure out what her plan is. Her plan is to wait for him to move again, and stop him, but if he waits much longer her arms might give out on her.

The boy bends his knees and dives to the left, but Song Qian already knows which direction he’s going to jump before he does it. If she had the presence of mind, she would be surprised at how accurate her clairvoyance is, as usually it is not nearly this precise. But because it is only short bursts of future vision, only a few seconds into the future, maybe it is easier.

Laying on the ground with two bullet wounds in his body, the boy screams in pain, hands feebly covering the holes to staunch the blood. His eyes are wide and terrified. It’s like he’s never been hurt before, and Song Qian feel a little guilty for hurting a child like this, but it’s life or death in these situations. Her heart is hammering in her chest and her blood rushing through her body, but she’s still alive.

She lets her gun drop, thinking the fight is over, but then he rolls over onto his front, rage filled eyes pinpointed on her. The next instant has him standing in front of her, reaching out to sluggishly hit her across the face. On reflex, she ducks out of the way to lessen the blow, but it still makes her vision black out for a moment, and sends her stumbling. Her mouth is bleeding, too, she notes with some detachment.

“Who are you?” He snarls, sweat dripping down his hairline. Up close, he looks older - dark circles around his eyes and a jaded shadow in his face. Does no-one know who she is? Through the pain, Song Qian is almost insulted.

When she doesn’t reply, he winds up to hit her again, aiming for her stomach. Her gun is still in her hand, however, and as he aims for her, she swings upwards, hitting his head with the side of the gun. It glances off the side of his face, and does little to no damage, but it gives her a chance to step back and raise her gun again, finger on the trigger.

This time, she won’t hesitate. She stares down the barrel at the young boy’s face, making it clear that she _will_ kill him if he so much as moves.

“I don’t want to shoot you again.” She says. “Back off now, and I won’t hurt you.”

The boy spits blood on the floor. A bold move, for someone who is swaying on his feet.

“Tao!” A voice from the side shrieks, and suddenly a flurry of feathers interrupts her vision, startling her.

“Victoria! Shoot his wing!” Minseok yells. Song Qian does it without hesitating, ripping a hole in the pristine feathers and provoking a shrill wail as red permeates the white. She shoots a second time, but this time only clips the edge of the boy’s wings as he takes off, the dark boy- Tao- cradled in his arms.

“Nice job.” Minseok pants, looking more tired than she has ever seen him. Looks like that winged kid gave him more of a run-around than he was expecting.

“Thanks.” Song Qian says, not really believing it anymore. She could have shot him in the heart, and he wouldn’t have been able to do a damn thing about it. He wouldn’t bother them anymore, wouldn’t be able to cause a nuisance.

Should she have let him get away, or should she have just killed him? She doesn’t know anymore.

 

Joonmyeon has lost it. There’s no trace of the man he used to tease back in the workshop, who would whip Jongin with a rag if he got too annoying. It breaks Jongin’s heart to see him like this, but he can’t see any way he can reason with him, not when he’s blind with rage like this. More than anything in the world, he wants to talk to him, like they used to, but those days are gone.

Kyungsoo grabs onto his arm, tugging him harshly across a small expanse of land, limping even as he raises a wall from the earth to shield them.

Safely behind another temporary barricade, Kyungsoo holds his arm across Jongin’s front protectively, even though Jongin is perfectly capable of fighting on his own. Although maybe not against Joonmyeon, who knows him inside out. Kyungsoo snarls, the dirt beneath his hands soft as he presses his fingers into it- is the earth comforting him, Jongin wonders? The wall shudders under the force of Jongdae’s repetitive lightning blows as he and Joonmyeon draw nearer, shouting all the while for Kyungsoo to _just hand him over_. More than the threat of being hurt, Joonmyeon’s frenzied words cause his chest to tighten; has he become just a murderer to him? Does everything they’ve been through together mean _nothing_ to him now? Jongin supposes he must feel betrayed, like the world is against him after everything that’s happened. Jongin feels it too, that hollow emptiness.

He had thought that Jongdae would be his voice of reason, would hold him back. It was always like that before, although he never got so angry as this when he was younger. Jongdae was a calming influence on those around him, despite his destructive magical abilities. He was a pacifist. Jongin wonders what changed.

The wall shudders again, a small explosion sending rubble flying into the air, and they look to each other, knowing that this won’t hold out much longer.

Kyungsoo is unable to fight back to his full ability, his prosthetic still not co-operating with him as well as he’d like. It’s not fully bonded with his anatomy yet, despite all the physical therapy and medicine his sister has been giving him. Jongin knows it’s still sore; he knows that he’s smoking more to try and mask the pain, and he also knows that it’s not working. It shows in the way he moves and the way he fights- he’s more on the defensive the offensive, diving from attacks and frantically building temporary earthen walls to protect himself and Jongin.

“Are you ok?” Kyungsoo asks, not for the first time. Jongin nods. Joonmyeon must have ordered the rest of his subordinates to leave them to him.

“I’m fine. Are you?” Jongin queries, looking the man over in case he was caught by one of Joonmyeon’s razor sharp attacks. He looks more out of breath than anything, though that could be because he’s already in pain as it is. A wave of guilt floods his system. It’s not technically his fault, but he feels responsible for everything that’s happened since he came back. Especially Kyungsoo’s knee, although that was down to Kyungsoo’s stubborn arrogance.

“Yeah. I’ll be fine.” Kyungsoo doesn’t sound convincing, not even to himself. He angles his head sideways, peering out from their protective hole. This tactic isn’t going to last forever, however, and they both know it. They’re going to have to face them both sooner or later. The trouble is is that using the earth magic for attack leaves him exposed for a moment, and a moment could be all it takes for Joonmyeon or Jongdae to kill him. Both of them have rapid fire attack power, and strength that would more than match Kyungsoo in his current state. The fear curdling in his gut is telling him that this could be the end. He clutches at Kyungsoo’s sleeve.

“Kyungsoo, please-” _don’t do this_ , is what Jongin wants to say, but the words die on his tongue. There is fire in the other man’s eyes, unmistakable. “Please.” He says again, unsure what he’s begging for now. For Kyungsoo not to die? For him not to hurt Joonmyeon? Kyungsoo’s eyebrows lower over his eyes, determination in the set of his mouth.

“Fuck this!” Kyungsoo slams his fist on the ground, and launches upwards, stamping and throwing the wall in Joonmyeon’s direction, trying to buy them some time. By the time the other man recovers, Kyungsoo has built an arsenal of rocky spikes, all angled downwards at Joonmymeon’s spot on the carpark, ready to surge forwards at the flick of Kyungsoo’s wrist. His command of his power, even when so weak, is phenomenal.

Joonmyeon snarls, looking up at the deadly point of the floating rocks, assessing his options. Jongdae stands back a little, watching on cautiously. Jongin catches his eyes for a moment. There is a sense of hostility, but not insanity. Jongin had been right: the man was Joonmyeon’s conscience- maybe he had been helping him keep afloat all this time. But, as he well knows, sometimes things just don’t go to plan.

“Stop trying to get in my way, Kyungsoo, you _know_ he’s a murderer!” The leader of El Dorado orders. Jongin blanches, mouth twisting. There is a darkness twisting in Joonmyeon’s eyes, and even at this distance Jongin can feel the full force of it directed at him.

“I _know_ he’s innocent!” Kyungsoo argues back, foot twisting on the ground to steady himself. “I can _prove_ it!” He’s sweating profusely now, and Jongin wants to intervene, to take his place somehow, but that’s just not possible. Jongin can’t foresee a scenario where all of them make it out alive.

“There’s no point trying to reason with him.” Jongin says, low in Kyungsoo’s ear, tears pricking at his eyes. “He’s too far gone to listen.”

“I know.” Kyungsoo spits. “I just wish I didn’t have to fight him.” Jongin frowns. He had thought Kyungsoo enjoyed fighting Joonmyeon, that he enjoyed provoking him and baiting him. Kyungsoo growls, hyper focusing on his target, and trying to ignore the pain. Jongin stands behind him, unable to do anything to help and hating himself a little for it.

Taking Jongin by surprise, Joonmyeon leaps forwards, and Kyungsoo is just a fraction slow to react, shooting the shards of tarmac at him half a second too late. Joonmyeon rolls and ducks under them, evading them with relative ease as they cascade down onto the molten carpark, shattering the ground and opening new fissures.

Kyungsoo pulls up another obstacle to give them a few seconds to pull back, but Joonmyeon is already leaping around it, launching another barrage of icy needles. One catches Kyungsoo in the shoulder, and another two in his thigh. He makes a pained noise, baring his teeth, and Jongin’s stomach clenches. Jongin should be the one taking these hits, not him. The amount of injuries Kyungsoo has undergone on his behalf… Jongin hates it. If he knew a way to transfer all the pain to him, he would choose it in a heartbeat.

So far Jongin has managed to evade all of Joonmyeon’s attacks, but only thanks to Kyungsoo standing in his way each time the crazed man throws anything their way; Jongin could easily teleport out of the situation entirely, but that would mean leaving Kyungsoo alone, and he’s not willing to do that. And he can’t use his powers well in such a busy area without risking teleporting into space someone is already occupying, which could be messy on so many levels. That was the reason Kris and Luhan took him in in the first place: they had seen him running around alone in the streets and hadn’t wanted to find a little arm or leg, disembodied or fused halfway into a wall.

“How could you kill them?! They were your _family_!” Joonmyeon roars, shooting endless shards of ice in their direction, the pin-like missiles sticking out of a rushed erected wall like porcupine quills. They melt in an instant as Joonmyeon jumps over the smashed remnants of a previous asphalt wall, charging towards where they’re hidden like a raging bull.

Kyungsoo reaches out as if to block him, pushing Jongin behind him in the process, and pulls off a sheet of the surface of asphalt, melding it to the shape of his arm to protect them both as more attacks rain down on them. A sharp slice nicks Jongin’s face, arm, and leg where Kyungsoo wasn’t standing in the way. It stings like a paper cut, and Jongin gasps, knowing that Kyungsoo is suffering from these all over his body and worse.

“Move.” Kyungsoo orders, shoving Jongin away with a palm to his chest.

“What? No! I’m not just leaving you!” Jongin insists, offended that Kyungsoo would even ask such a thing of him.

“He wants to kill you, and you can’t fight back.” Kyungsoo snaps, peering around the edge of the wall to see how close Joonmyeon is now. Jongin grabs Kyungsoo’s shoulder, shaking him as if this will bring him to his senses.

“He won’t hesitate to kill you either! What the fuck, Kyungsoo?! You aren’t exactly in the best shape either!”

“ _Please_ Jongin.” Kyungsoo looks up at him, and something in his eyes makes him shut up. Jongin hisses through his teeth and clenches his fists. Why has it come down to this? Every part of him is screaming for him to stay, to stay with Kyungsoo, to fight by his side.

“Alright. Fine.” Jongin concedes defeat, and hesitantly steps back, letting his hand drop to his side. He wants to tell him to be careful, to not get hurt even worse. That he loves him. But he doesn’t say any of these things. Instead, he just nods.

He closes his eyes, and when he opens them, he’s far enough away from Joonmyeon that he can’t be seen by him. His incensed scream rings out across the area, even over the sounds of everyone fighting. BLind with rage, Jongin watches Joonmyeon dive for Kyungsoo, intent on beating him to a pulp. Kyungsoo is steady, however, and somehow manages to toss Joonmyeon over, kneeling over him and doing his best to pin him down as he struggles. Jongin breathes a small sigh of relief, and wonders if Kyungsoo predicted this.

Joonmyeon bucks and writhes, but Kyungsoo is strong and can keep him down without too much trouble. Joonmyeon stops moving for a moment, and Jongin squints to see what’s going on. Are they talking? He can’t tell what’s happening, but something doesn’t seem right. He wants to go back, but he might distract Kyungsoo, and that could ruin everything. He wrings his fingers, jumping out of the way as a woman with severe burns stumbles in front of him. She pushes him a little

Suddenly Joonmyeon is towering over Kyungsoo- how had that happened?- and he’s pounding his fist into Kyungsoo’s bad knee. Kyungsoo is screaming, fighting back as hard as he can with his bare hands. Have both of them forgotten their magic?

Jongin hesitates only for a moment before transporting himself back into the fray, already furious with himself for leaving. Kyungsoo’s knee is bloody and mangled, bits of bone, metal and wiring exposed from Joonmyeon’s brutality. He feels sick just looking at it.

“Kyungsoo!” He calls out, half hoping that Joonmyeon will hear him and turn to attack him instead, but it seems as the man is beyond hearing anything anymore. He hovers uselessly for a moment, each strangled, pained cry from Kyungsoo’s lips burrowing its way inside him, tugging at his core.

Out of nowhere, Jongdae reappears, trying to pull Joonmyeon away. Jongin had forgotten about him for a moment, in all the confusion.

“Joonmyeon, that’s _enough_! Stop it!” Jongdae shouts, tugging at his shoulders to try and make him budge but it’s futile. Frantic, Jongdae looks up, “Jongin, help me.” He orders. Instinctively, Jongin makes to go help him, but before he can do so, Joonmyeon lashes out. The blow hits Jongdae’s gut, winding him. He stares at Joonmyeon, bewildered as Joonmyeon goes straight back to his barrage of attacks on Kyungsoo’s now unconscious body. Jongdae’s face would almost be funny, if the situation weren’t so deadly serious.

Mouth set into a grim line, Jongin picks up a loose stone from the ground, and weighs it in his hands. His chest aches, but he has to do this. To save Kyungsoo, if he’s still alive. If not, then...to avenge him.

“Jongin, no-” Jongdae tries to stop him, but he’s too slow. By the time he’s on his feet, the stone has already served its purpose.

Joonmyeon slumps to the ground, and tears roll down Jongin’s cheeks. Angrily, he wipes them off. Joonmyeon is no longer his anymore, and never will be again. Jongin shoves the man’s body away from Kyungsoo, and sinks to his knees next to him, leaning over his face to check if he’s still breathing.

He almost melts in relief, even though it’s just a faint trace.

_He’s still alive._

Fingers trembling from the rush of adrenaline, Jongin strips off his t-shirt to use as a makeshift bandage for Kyungsoo’s knee. What’s left of it, at least. Without looking too hard at the gruesome wound, Jongin tries to bandage it as gently as possible, but Kyungsoo still whimpers as he moves it, even while unconscious. He has to tie it off tightly to stop the bleeding, but in doing so he is going to cause him agony. He should teleport them both back to their base, but he doesn’t know if anyone with healing magic is going to still be there. Wincing, Jongin pulls the makeshift bandage tight, his heart breaking a little at the sound Kyungsoo makes.

Jongdae drags the other unconscious man away, and checks to see if he’s breathing. He doesn’t look Jongin in the eye once, and he doesn’t say a word. Jongin doesn’t speak either. There’s nothing either of them can say to each other at this point.

He crawls closer to Kyungsoo’s head, running his fingers through his dirty hair. More hot tears spill out over his face, and try as he might, they won’t stop coming, no matter how many times he wipes them away.

“I’m sorry.” He whispers, even though Kyungsoo won’t hear it.

 

It doesn’t take long after that for El Dorado to start retreating. Jongdae carries Joonmyeon away, and anyone else still alive after the battle is given the chance to leave. No one is smiling, or joking as they pick their way across the broken asphalt, still flowing with trails of magma.

Baekhyun is carrying his own severed arm, and Chanyeol’s clothes are mostly burned away. Yixing looks like a skeleton but despite that he is carrying Yeri in his arms, and helping Krystal walk. Minseok seems to have escaped too much injury, but he’s covered in scrapes and cuts. He is helping a few people to walk as well. Victoria is drenched in blood from something, and holding her gun a little too tightly, her other arm hooking around the waist of another woman Jongin doesn’t know the name of.

Yixing helps Krystal to sit down, and lays Yeri down so her head is in her lap. He kneels next to Jongin, and rests a hand on his shoulder.

“Jongin,” he says calmly, “take him back to the club. Sulli is there, she’ll be able to help him. He’ll be alright.” Jongin nods, scooping Kyungsoo up and holding him close. He notices that he doesn’t say ‘I promise’ but he can’t find it in him to hold that against him.

**Author's Note:**

> this chapter was more or less of a introduction of sorts? we only hinted at some things and jongin and kyungsoo's relationship might be a bit confusing but that was the point. also you may or may not have noticed that we use they/them pronouns for baekhyun, which is solely based on their species. they're a plant basically so...yeah. that's about all i got to say.  
> comment, bookmark, give kudos! ty


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